


Pirates of the Dragon Star

by Starrcrossrose



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Multi, Space Pirates, Treasure Hunting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-05-21 03:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14907842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starrcrossrose/pseuds/Starrcrossrose
Summary: Vegeta has grown up pillaging planets and star-cruisers to appease Lord "Captain" Frieza, doing whatever he can to keep what little freedom he has in his miserable life. At 26, he never thought he would be sailing the stars while leaving a trail of blood behind him, but it hardly seemed to matter anymore. He would do whatever it took to become stronger, no matter the cost.Until one mission, when his job is ruined by a crew aboard a ship called the Z-Fighter. Through a vast misunderstanding, Vegeta manages to capture and hold onto one hostage. What he doesn't expect, however, is that the blue-haired inventor has a smart mouth, great aim, and a belt full of tools and knives she isn't afraid to use.He would have left her. Should have left her. But he discovers that she might house the answers to eternal youth... and his freedom.





	1. Ocean Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there everyone!  
> This is my first attempt at a fanfic on this website EVER and, needless to say, I'm pretty nervous about it! But, I was dying to write a fic set in a space pirate AU, so here we are!  
> Disclaimer: The setting is inspired by many different types of Pirate and Space movies/books rolled into its own thing! I am not making this exactly like 1 movie/book setting or another!  
> Also, I do not own the right to any of these characters! I am merely borrowing their greatness for a little fun! 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy what I have to write!  
> Sail on, Star Kids!

**Vegeta:**

 

_He knew he was dreaming, but it didn’t stop the crushing weight of fear and sorrow from swallowing him. He could still picture that day as clearly as if it had happened yesterday, as if he was still nothing more than a child doing his best to be strong and do as his father had asked._

_He was on Captain Frieza’s ship, The Tyrant, watching his precious home, the islands of Sei, grow smaller as the sails gathered the energy of the stars and two suns surrounding the islands. The atmosphere and gravity reactors hummed on somewhere from the belly of the ship, but Vegeta hardly noticed them. Instead, his eyes were trained on the islands that floated in front of him, beautiful, bright blue ocean spilling over the edge of the atmosphere and into space to turn to mist. Mountains reached up and stretched wide, surrounding the main fortress, the gleaming red and gold palace, that he grew up in. The other islands were smaller, spread out, but from this distance, he could see nearly all of them, making him realize just how small he was in the grand scheme of things. He had always thought Sei was massive, and it was, but not in the way his childhood mind had thought. Now they were in space, the vastness nearly dark except for the stretch of stars and cosmic dust that moved behind Sei, something he had spent many night gazing at while thinking of conquering other worlds when he grew old enough. His father had taught him how to chart the stars in their area and had always promised to teach him to navigate the galaxies once he was older, would teach him to sail._

_They never even had the chance._

_Right before his eyes, his father had been pushed to his knees, pushed to an ultimatum. Either give Frieza gold, women, and the heir to the throne, or watch his entire planet go up in flames at his hand. Had watched as his father looked at him, the distress in his eyes too painful to bear as Vegeta turned away, shaking. Heard his father agree to the terms, as long as he could send two other Saiyans with Vegeta as company. Frieza had merely grinned wickedly, his ugly, pale face twisted in some sort of sick amusement as he allowed the King’s terms. Vegeta had kept his cool, albeit with much difficulty, just like his father had taught him to when facing an enemy. “Don’t let them read you,” the King had always said. “Remain cool and collected while you think, remain a mystery, remain unpredictable. It will be your best weapon.”_

_Now, he was standing beside the two Saiyans his father had sent with him; Nappa, a trusted friend and fighter, who had lost his head of hair at a young age, and Raditz, whose mane of hair was nearly swallowing his bulk of a frame. Neither held relation to him; he was the only heir to the throne, after all, but he did know them both well enough to be comfortable. They were all standing at the edge of the ship, their hands resting along the polished wood and brass of the ship while Vegeta merely stood with his arms crossed tightly, trying to keep control of the emotions boiling inside of him._

_He didn’t know what was going to happen next, had no idea that Frieza didn’t captain a ship called The Tyrant for nothing. He didn’t know that the front end of the star-sailor could open up to reveal a narrow cannon that gleamed with red light and star power. He watched in horror as Frieza pointed a finger towards the islands of Sei and their beautiful blue waters, towering mountains of red and green foliage, silver clouds hovering around in peace. A laugh erupted from the man as he gave the command to fire, and the three Saiyans watched as the cannon fired a single, narrow beam of red, solar energy, and made impact with the heart of the biggest mountain. Before Vegeta even had a chance to breathe, so scream, the islands began to crumble, cracking apart as fire consumed his home in seconds. Water billowed up into the air as the atmosphere collapsed, the whole area folding in on itself then, in a flash of white and red light, the islands of Sei blew up, fragments of rock and dust being the only evidence that there had ever been a planet to begin with._

_It had taken Nappa’s height and bulk over Raditz to keep the young soldier from killing Frieza on the spot. He was screaming obscenities, Nappa’s eyes glazed over with shock and acceptance as he wrestled the young fighter to the ground. Nappa’s eyes searched Vegeta’s face, like he was worried he would have to make a grab for him too, but Vegeta had been too deep in shock, the pain ripping through his chest threatening to bring him to his knees and wrack him with sobs. But, somehow, he managed to stay on his feet, steadying himself with a hand along the ship’s side. He found his head turning towards the man who had made the call, the man who destroyed the only family he had, only to find him already looking at him, a cold smile on his purple lips as he slowly came down from his place behind the helm. Nappa managed to get Raditz under control, the crew around them grinning in amusement at their new captives, watching them like they were a source of entertainment and not a proud people who had just watched their home being blown to pieces._

_Captain Frieza finally stood before Vegeta, his arms clasped casually behind his back, dark purple coat swaying around his white and gold suit as if he were the King of the Universe. Vegeta instantly loathed him, his blood beginning to boil with the unfamiliar, overwhelming sensation of true hatred. He glared at the man as he stooped down to meet his level, eyes a blazing red, just like the light of the cannon. “Now, little Prince, how about we get you settled in with the crew? It’s always best to learn your place while you’re still young, and we know just the place to put you in.”_

_Before he could say or do anything, heavy shadows fell upon him, ready to tear him apart._

 

~*~*~*~

 

Vegeta woke with a start, his body cool with sweat, his muscles taught and ready for a fight. It took a few moments of staring at his ceiling, a cool blue light slicing through the edge of the window’s curtains, for his breathing to slow. His heart was beating rapidly, and he huffed in annoyance at himself. Even after all these years, that dream was still vivid, as real as the day it happened, and it still made him feel fear.

 _How pathetic_ , he thought to himself, tossing a bronzed arm over his eyes. _Get a grip, you’re stronger than this._ He lay there for a few more moments, already hearing the bustle of the crew beneath him as they awoke for the day. With another annoyed sigh, he pushed himself up and sat on the edge of his bed, grabbing for a pair of thick socks. Today they were going on-planet to gather some coin that was owed to Frieza, and Vegeta just hoped the people would just cooperate and hand it over. He wasn’t in the mood to polish his white and gold boots of someone’s blood again tonight.

He stood, walking over to the metal basin near his set of drawers, twisting the only knob above the faucet to let icy water spill into it. He cupped his hands under the small, steady stream and splashed it over his face, the cold pulling him quickly out of his past and into the present. He dried his face with a worn-down towel before wetting one side of it and wiping down his torso. His tanned body was littered with scars, but he was proud of them, barely even giving them a glance as he mopped up any remaining sweat from his restless sleep. He had been scarred, yes, but he was also stronger than he ever could’ve been otherwise, something that he was sure Frieza hadn’t planned on.

That bastard was a clever man though, just like Vegeta’s father used to tell him. Frieza took Vegeta’s growing strength as a surprise, but instead of growing worried, he seemed to grow more content. He started assigning Vegeta tougher and tougher tasks, pushing him to his absolute limits, and then rewarding him. Frieza began giving him a longer leash after a “job well done”, and slowly but surely, Vegeta had gained more and more free-time and space (literally). Finally, after nearly fifteen years under Frieza’s Quartermaster, Ginyu, he was allowed his own ship.

The memory of that day was as bitter as it was sweet, and Vegeta couldn’t help but grimace a bit. Frieza had told him with his usual indifference that the ship was his, but not to forget where he got it. He would still work for Frieza, follow his orders, and return when called. Vegeta had merely huffed at him and given a stiff bow of “respect”, if you could call it that. The reptilian man had even allowed Vegeta to name the starship whatever he wanted, and the prince had spared no seconds in naming it The Royal. The twitch in Frieza’s eye did not go unmissed, but he had quickly composed himself and waved the Saiyan away. “Gather yourself a crew, monkey, and do so quickly. You have a mission tomorrow morning, and you know I don’t take tardiness well.”

Now, nearly a year after, Vegeta still had his limited freedom and a crew to call his own. Nappa and Raditz had stayed by his side all these years, fighting and raiding beside him, not daring to ask questions about their orders, doing what they could to survive. Raditz had grown taller than either of the Saiyans had expected, his muscle coming in handy for the brute jobs. His mane of hair had only grown longer, but he kept it tied back nowadays, refusing to cut it. Nappa was another of the strongest, but Vegeta usually left him to watch The Royal whenever going on-planet. The man was growing older and, even though his strength hadn’t dwindled, Vegeta could sense the tiredness in his demeanor. Sei’s destruction had left something broken inside of him, and the part of Vegeta that still clung to sanity decided to work around it as best as possible. He couldn’t afford losing his freedom and his ship over some old man and his broken pride.

Taking one last glance in the mirror, Vegeta brushed his dark hair back with a hand and watched as it stubbornly stood nearly upright, like licks of black flame. He popped a mouth-cleaning pod into his mouth, let it do its work, then spat it out, rinsing his mouth and the sink with water before shutting off the spicket for the day. Moving a step over, he pressed his thumb against a round, metal plate on one of the dresser drawers, and watched as a yellow light blinked under his finger and the lock clicked open. He pulled the drawer open and grabbed a dark blue shirt before sliding it shut again. Vegeta never slept without pants and his gun, so it made dressing in the morning quick and easy. When living the life he did, someone could attack at any moment, and he wasn’t the type to waste time looking flashy and gaudy like Frieza or the Ginyu Force.

Nearly every day, Vegeta wore a dark blue or black shirt, sometimes fitted to his form and other days more loose, casual. He owned exactly six pairs of pants, all of which were varying shades of black, gray, or deep blue. Today they were black, same as yesterday since he slept in these ones, and he double-checked the belt around his waist, feeling for his pistol. Feeling its cool metal on his hand, he finished tucking his shirt into his pants and grinned to himself. He had purchased that pistol with what little money he managed to keep in his own pocket the last fifteen years of his life. Now, at 26, he owned a Galick, a model he had always dreamed of owning since he was a boy. The pistol itself was expensive, but what made it so pricey was the fact it could take nearly any type of ammo if one knew how to modify it. Vegeta knew a little, but he hardly ever had to use it regardless. He was more of a hand-to-hand combat kind of guy, quick with a sword and a fist, but the gun was a comfort to have.

He was pulling on his simple, dark-blue coat, stitched with gold threat and gold buttons, when a rough knock on his brass and wood door pulled his attention. “What?” he barked, voice extra gruff from the sleep he had just woken from.

“We’re almost within boarding distance, Captain.” Raditz’ tone betrayed tiredness underneath the respect he was showing. Guess Vegeta wasn’t the only one who had lack of sleep last night.

“Fine, I’ll be out in a moment. Ready the crew.” He ordered. Waiting for Raditz’ steps to retreat, Vegeta grasped his sword from its space by the door and slid it into the loop on the left side of his belt, the Galick on the right, checking the other ammunition clip above his pistol to be sure it was loaded. Lastly, he pulled his white gloves from his coat pocket and pulled them on, suddenly tense. Normally, going on-planet was exciting, the thrill of a fight and possibly spilling someone’s blood like a drug, a high. But, today, the planet they were visiting was a place he hadn’t seen since he was a young boy, and if the nerves in his hands were any indication, he was worried he would reawaken memories he didn’t like. Memories of another royal family that had barely survived extinction, unlike his own.

Steeling himself, he pushed any further worry down into the dark pit where he pushed everything that wasn’t related to work or survival, and left his room, appearing on the main deck. The crew had already been split in half, those who were going on-planet standing near the Pod, a small ship that would take them through the atmosphere and onto the world below. Raditz, followed by one of Ginyu’s men, Jeice, waited with other members of the crew to board the Pod. Nappa stood among the rest, already handing out orders on fine-tuning the ship to its best and cleaning the living quarters below deck. Upon seeing Vegeta, everyone paused and gave him a quick salute and a bow.

Ignoring them, he walked straight up to Raditz. “Let’s go, I don’t want to waste more time here than we have to.”

Nodding, Raditz began boarding everyone while Vegeta stood by, taking in their surroundings. The Royal was drifting peacefully above a glimmering, blue and green planet, mostly ocean with big chunks of land floating by. It reminded him painfully of the island of Sei, of his long-lost home, but he did his best to ignore it. This planet had one sun, millions of miles away but still clearly visible from where they were, and one moon, drifting not too far off from them, a glowing, silver rock. It looked to be early morning where they were headed down below, right on schedule.

Vegeta sucked in a breath through his nose, then released it slowly. His brow furrowed in annoyance at how he was feeling, how these nerves kept trying to shake him. He just hoped beyond hope he wouldn’t recognize anyone and that they wouldn’t recognize him. After all, he had been merely four years old last time he was here, and his memory of the planet was faint. The only thing he could really grasp in his memory were two young girls, heirs to their throne, one with light-blonde hair and one with mystic, blue hair, giggling as they tried to pull Vegeta’s tail. It had been a quick visit and he remembered feeling relieved when they left because he had been trying to fend the ruthless girls off the entire time.

He didn’t remember either of their names, and he hadn’t cared to. Yet, he still prayed no one realized who he was; he just wanted to get in, get the money from the weapon-maker that owed them, and get out. Then he and his crew could deliver the goods and take a couple days off until the next orders arrived.

Jeice boarded before him and Raditz, his puffy white hair and red skin dulled by the glow coming off the planet beneath them. Raditz adjusted the green-tinted spyglass over his eye and nodded to Vegeta before boarding the Pod. It was a strange-looking little ship, nearly spherical in shape with a glass dome over the top, built otherwise of brass and steel. It was operated by small engines dotted around the ship like the rings on a planet. It was more narrow than tall, but it made for great getaways with its speed and smaller target size. It also fit directly into the hold of The Royal, a convenient placement for whenever they were outrunning every starship in the universe.

Vegeta boarded and took his place in the Captain’s chair, his eyes focused on the oceans beneath them before zeroing in on their destination. With a flick of his finger along the screen in the armrest, a monitor appeared on the glass in front of the crew, everyone taking their rightful places to help the descent be as smooth as usual. He typed in the coordinates and let the computer run its scan before giving them the landing point, right where he wanted it. Damn, all these years of sailing had made him good at this.

Then, without a word, the ship began to move, and they were flying, down, down, down, like the blue of the ocean rising up to meet them. Vegeta did his best to ignore the aching feeling in his chest at the color of the water, the vivid aqua colors meshing into his dream, into his past, until he felt the steel under his left hand bending under his grip. Ignoring the look Raditz was giving him from the corner of his eye, he pulled out his own spyglass, a piece of soft, high-tech film that fit directly over the irises and allowed one to sense and see a threat from a distance, causing one of his black eyes to appear red to those around him, but not seeing the color himself. The little device had served him well many times, and even though he doubted he would need it on this planet, he had brought it just in case. Vegeta didn’t take chances.

Then, as he began to see land and not ocean, he felt himself relax, slipping back into his rightful place as the Prince, the Devil of the Stars. He was Vegeta, a force to be reckoned with, and he found himself thinking that, maybe he really wouldn’t mind polishing blood off his boots today afterall.

 

 


	2. Map Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta is caught in a situation during a hand-off.  
> Bulma thinks about her past and about the Dragon Star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written to:
> 
> Blackheart - Two Steps From Hell  
> &  
> Queen of Crows - Two Steps From Hell 
> 
> I own no rights to songs used while I was writing, or to the characters themselves!  
> I thought it would be fun to put the songs I write to on here so you guys get a little feel for what inspires me!  
> Also, I'm sorry this chapter isn't as long! I hope you guys like it anyway!  
> Thank you so much!
> 
> \- Starrcross

**Vegeta:**

The name of the world beneath him floated in the top left corner of the screen, as if trying its best to remind Vegeta that, yes, he had been here before.

Capula.

The blue-green planet was known for its intense, advanced technology and its flourishing crops. The prince's mind drifted to his studies as a child, his teacher whose name he had long since forgotten, reciting the pros and cons of planets within their massive galaxy. He was learning of Capula before the trip with his father, who was making the visit in secret of Frieza. The King was searching for someone willing to build him a weapon strong enough to fight the lizard-like alien, but the ruler of the planet had refused. Dr. Briefs had said that his family was already risking much by seeing him at all, much less actually working with him. He didn’t want to put his daughters, his wife, his people in danger just to build a weapon that may or may not work. At least, that's what Vegeta had overheard from outside his parents bedroom after their return home.

Pulling himself back to reality, he glared out the glass as the ship touched down. They weren’t here to speak with the Brief's; this was a black-market visit on the far side of the country. Frieza had eyes everywhere, even on a gleaming, pure-looking planet like Capula, and anyone who dared to feel safe was fooling themselves.

The narrow, metal gang-plank unfolded from the rear of the ship and Vegeta stood, motioning for Raditz and a few other members of his crew to follow him. Jeice looked like he wanted to follow, but Vegeta demanded he stay with the ship in case things went wrong. At least, that was his excuse. He couldn’t stand Jeice any more than the alien could stand Vegeta, and he knew taking orders from someone he believed was beneath him was torture in and of itself. Vegeta couldn’t help but grin to himself as his little entourage followed him out onto the surface. The order for Jeice to be a part of the prince's crew had been Ginyu's (with Frieza's permission, of course) so that the little red man could keep an eye on him. It made Vegeta want to burst into laughter and break someone's ribs all at the same time. He was strong enough to take Jeice, but with him came the entire Ginyu Force, and they were not to be messed with when they were known for jumping enemies as one group instead of individually and with pride, as he would've.

The air smelled of fresh grass and ocean salt, the faint thrum of distant waves carrying along the breeze. They were rested between two towering, dark slabs of rock, glimmering with ages of crystallized sea air and dipped steeply in shadow. The sand here was darker than the sun-bleached shores they had seen while flying in, and the canyon stretched long and wide, as far as the eye could see. Plants of deep green and vibrant yellows hung overhead and pushed through the thick stone walls, trying to find their place in the shadows with a persistence that might even rival weeds. This place made a perfect dark alley for black-market trades. Or, in this case, a collections visit.

Their target appeared from behind a curtain of blue vines hanging a few yards away, his purple clothing blending well with the deep shadows, deep-green skin peeking from whatever part of the man that wasn’t covered. He wore a purple sash around his head and mouth, a set of piercing eyes peeking out from underneath the fabric. He seemed broader and taller than the description Vegeta had been given, but he honestly didn’t care at the moment. What he wanted was what that self-proclaimed “ruler of the universe” wanted, and that was the information promised them, along with their owed coin.

With a stiff tilt of his head, Vegeta motioned for Raditz to follow him to meet the man halfway. This was a hand-off, in its own right, if you counted handing over intel for your life, and he didn’t need the entire group to come up to this man.

His boots sunk into the impossibly soft sand, shifting beneath him, making walking somewhat difficult, and he felt suddenly irritated with this whole thing all over again. Vegeta had spent so much time sailing, so much time among stars and fire and meteors, comets leaving ice-trails and frost on his cabin window, that being on an actual planet somehow felt wrong to him. He was used to the rock and sway of a ship sailing through the waves of a red and purple nebula, sparks of blue and yellow right at the tips of his fingers. No matter how often he had done this, no matter how many planets and gravitates he had experienced, no matter how many beautiful women or incredible craftsman he came across, he never liked how the earth felt beneath his feet. It reminded him too much of Sei, but it also reminded him of all the death and blood he had experienced whenever going on-planet. Sure, he enjoyed beating people up, it was kind of his thing, but there had been times he really hated his job, especially when death involved frightened children clinging to their fathers or mothers as they were slaughtered. Their wails brought back more bad memories he had spent years trying to crush under the weight of his fury, his reputation and freedom always at stake.

He did what he could to survive, to squirrel away what little he could, to become stronger. Someday, he would be stronger than Frieza, and he would snap his neck, the blood of all those innocent people on his hands. Maybe, just maybe, they would stop haunting him in his sleep if he rid the world of the man who had given such cruel orders. Maybe they would forgive him for his sins, for being the demon that Frieza had raised him up to be. Hell, if he was _truly_ lucky, he may even leave Frieza’s massive war-ship alive.

The jangle of coins brought Vegeta’s attention to the outstretched hand between him and the man they were meeting with. His intel had told him that the man’s name was Piccolo, an ambassador from the planet Namé, which was a tiny place with a tiny sun and three moons. He was supposedly working with them as a way to exchange his people’s freedom, a sentiment that made Vegeta scoff out loud as he took the bag from the man’s hands. The weight and feel of the purse told him that the amount was correct, but did a quick scan with the spyglass laid over his eye. Then, he glanced up and did a thorough scan of the man in front of him, something still not feeling quite right.

Vegeta poorly stifled a sigh as he placed the bag in one of his coat pockets, the soft yet durable fabric stretching to accommodate for its weight. “Alright, Namék, coin is good. Now, the information and blueprints we asked for.”

The man said nothing, merely digging into his purple tunic for the rest. There was a tension in the air, a familiar scent of war coming from the Namék that made Vegeta's hand subconsciously ghost over the hilt of his sword. If this guy was going to try anything, then the prince would be ready; he could tell by the spyglass in his left eye that he was faster than the man in front of him. All it would take was a slight movement, the sing of metal and solar energy bursting forth as it cut through him like butter. He would be dead in less than 2 seconds, and Vegeta would have an excuse for killing their plug.

Instead, the man pulled out a slate of brass with glowing yellow designs etched into it. Wordlessly, he handed it over and Vegeta motioned for Raditz to take it instead. The tension in the air still hadn’t let up and it was starting to grind on the prince’s nerves. It dawned on him that this man didn’t fear him, didn’t look at the ground as a sign of submission, and instead looked him right in the eyes with a cold fierceness that may have even rivaled his own.

Raditz spoke up then. “Information. We still require that from you before we leave.”

Vegeta narrowed his eyes as he noticed the first bit of fidgeting in the man’s stance. Moments ticked past before Vegeta let a growl build in his throat. “You better start talking, Namék, this part of the deal requires it.”

A green hand motioned to the plaque that Raditz still had in his large palm, but the prince wouldn’t have it. “No, you'll speak to us, _now_. I am not going to take your word for it that the information we seek is stored in this device.” Seconds of silence followed once more and Vegeta found himself barely hanging on to his temper. He took two slow steps in the man’s direction, noticing how the alien tensed as he tried to hold his ground. It might have been admirable if Vegeta had any patience left. “I will not be played as a fool, you green _scum_. Who are you?”

Raditz sucked in a breath, obviously surprised, but Vegeta kept his gaze trained on the Namék. He could start to fit the pieces together now. He was hiding his face and wearing loose clothing to try and hide the fact that he was not the informant. He was not Piccolo, and Vegeta wouldn’t let him leave even if it meant killing him. “I said, _who are you?!_ ”

The faintest glimmer of fear crossed what little of the green face he could see, and before the man could form a response, Vegeta had lunged forward and tugged the scarf from the man’s head, revealing him to the world. He was a Namék all right, green skin with bits of pink patched over muscled areas. Two short antennae sprouted from his forehead, but immediately, Vegeta knew this man couldn’t be Piccolo. The man had a vibrant, dark green scar across his forehead and his face-shape and stature was all wrong. This man was a warrior, not built for spying but for brawling.

Vegeta boiled with anger, already twisting back around to begin to break the man until he told him where Piccolo was with his secrets, the secrets that were owed to Frieza, and in turn, the prince. In that split moment, however, something flew past Vegeta’s nose and buried itself into the sand. Looking down, the prince saw a hole in the ground, the spot smoking from what he already knew to be a solar blast from somewhere above.

An ambush.

“Shit.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

**Bulma:**

The plan was going well, at least she thought so. The team had been planning on this moment for months, had slaved over every scenario and every possible outcome until forming a plan. _This_ plan.

Bulma breathed a sigh of relief as she finished the last few adjustments to the rifle she had made for Goku. It had taken her far longer than her body and brain wished it had, but now that it was complete, she was proud of it. The rifle before her was beautiful, an ash-wood that was etched with nearly geometric lines, glowing with energy she had stored and replicated from the Ki star, a place of nearly endless power. She had built it to be able to fire quick shots, long distance, and beams that could do the destruction of a full-sized cannon. Crafting the weapon hadn’t been the only obstacle, but the ammo too. Only someone strong could use a weapon like this, and if she had more time, she would test it again just to be sure it did what she wanted. But, today was the day, and they needed Goku to have what he needed when going up against the Devil of the Stars.

“What a tacky name,” Bulma huffed to herself, wiping sweat from her brow and pushing a stray section of blue hair behind her ear. She leaned back in her chair, stretching her stiff limbs. “Who calls themselves the ‘devil’? We all know it’s Frieza who’s the real devil here.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

The amused voice behind her nearly made her jump entirely out of her seat, eyes wide as she twisted back towards the door. There stood the Captain, his tall, muscled body leaning lazily against the door frame as he flashed her a big grin before making his way over to her.

The room she was in, her own personal “lab”, wasn’t very big, but it was the best they could manage with a full crew and little to no time to visit her home. It was all shining silver metal and wood that she had painted yellow to try and match the lab from back home, her chair using a reverse magnetism to float above the floor for easier mobility whenever she was zooming from one side of the room to the other. She knew it had been asking a lot of the Captain, of Goku, but he was a lifelong friend of hers and he had happily obliged.

“Goku! Don’t sneak up on me like that, you know I hate it!” She thumped him lightly on the chest once he was close enough, but he merely laughed at her half-hearted threat.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that Bulma! I was just so anxious waitin’ for ya to be done with my new rifle!” His sunny smile drooped a little. “We’re almost to Capula and the exchange will be happenin’ pretty swiftly. I was just hopin’ it would be ready in time.”

Bulma pouted, knitting her brows together in mock offense. “Just who do you think I am?! Of course it’s finished!” She pushed back from her work table a bit to give Goku a better look. His eyes lit up once more as he reached out and picked it up, handling it with a care she didn’t think his brute hands were capable of. He turned it over, testing its weight, and then faced the wall and held it up, face turning serious as he feigned readying to shoot.

He was tall, his regular orange Captain’s coat currently abandoned, his dark blue shirt loose and slightly puffed at the sleeves. His black pants were also built for comfort and movement, the ends tucked into dark blue boots with gold thread that he had asked Bulma to make for him. Strapped around his torso was a holster with two small silver pistols and a knife, and around his waist was a short-sword, built for close combat. _In fact,_ Bulma thought, _he would look far more intimidating if it weren’t for his constant, goofy grin and mess of black hair. That man needs to learn to use a comb._

She watched him for a moment before rising to stand beside him. It took a few minutes, but she showed him the basics on how to use it before handing him the different packs of ammo. “Listen, I don’t have time to test this the way I want. Be careful using it today, or it might backfire on us, and then this whole plan will be down the drain.”

“No worries, Bulma,” the captain grinned, confident. “I’m a good shot, if anything else. I think we’ll keep our distance as long as necessary, but if it comes down to it, ya know that I’ll be fine in close-quarters.”

Bulma rolled her eyes, but it didn’t stop the smile on her face. She just couldn’t stay worried whenever he was around. His charm and attitude were practically infectious, and he had a way of making friends with enemies throughout their childhood. She totally understood why her friend Chi-Chi had fallen for him, why she had married him. Some of the crew wondered why Bulma hadn’t chased him, since they had known each other longer, but Bulma had laughed at them. He was a brother to her, albeit a reckless and destructive one. Besides, he wasn’t her type.

Her trail of thought was brought to an abrupt stop when the heard the weapon gently hum on, the blue lines in the white wood glowing brighter. Her eyes widened as she saw Goku aiming for the trashcan across the room. “Hey, what are you doing?!” When he didn’t respond, she realized his focus was fully on his target. “ _Goku!_ ”

He fired, a small blue beam leaving the barrel and hitting the metal bin with a loud _ping_ as it burned through the metal and into the piles of parchment, lighting them on fire. He smiled widely, but Bulma went right into panic mode, racing across the room for a large capsule that she activated before throwing it into the fire. With a soft pop, the fire was surrounded with a puff of smoke and water, the fire doused. When she turned around, hands planted firmly on her hips and mouth drawn down, she saw the captain rubbing the back of his head, laughing guiltily.

“Sorry Bulma, I just had to know how it worked! This is really cool!” He chuckled, the rifle already leaning against his side like he had owned it his whole life.

It suited him, and Bulma couldn’t stop the inventor in her for seeing that the rifle worked, at least so far. However, it didn’t stem her spark of anger. “Goku, this is the only lab we have, and if you blow it up, I won’t be able to make anything else for us and we’ll have to pay ridiculous prices for repairs! I’m glad it’s working for you, but do that again and I’ll be forced to ban you from here.”

He only laughed in response, and Bulma found it hard to stay mad. “Sorry, Bulma, won’t happen again.”

A call from the main deck echoed down to them, announcing their arrival, and as the engines slowed to a near whisper, Goku‘ face grew serious. They had arrived at Capula. The time had come for them to put their full plan into action. The captain placed a hand on Bulma’a shoulder as he passed her. “Be ready in case we have to make a getaway. You’re the second best pilot to Krillin, and he’s coming with me.”

She nodded, nerves crawling up her spine. This had to work. They already had 3 of the 7 pieces of the map, and if Lord Frieza found out, they would all be killed. Except Bulma. He would definitely torture her for information, use her smarts to find the Dragon Star. She would rather die than give that bastard her genius. She owed her family that much.

When Bulma was a child, she had heard the legend of the Dragon Star. It was a planet hidden away in a pocket of the universe and could only be found if someone had all 7 pieces of the map. Not only that, but you had to know how to read it too, since it was in another language, one that was nearly forgotten. At first, she had written it off as a child's story, a fantasy. That is, until it became a very serious matter to a very serious man.

Frieza had come to her family when she was still really young, had demanded her father make a device that could find the pieces of the map. When her father had told him he couldn’t, he had obliterated half the population in a day, sending out his forces as her father pleaded for reason. Instead, he had killed her mother right in front of her father.

Bulma and her sister, Tights, had been outside the room, heard their mother gasp as Frieza fire his small, laser-like pistol through her chest, heard their father scream. Tights had covered Bulma’s ears, trying to protect her, her hands trembling as tears streamed down their faces. Bulma had wanted to run to her father, to her mother, but Tights had dragged her up and down the hallway, her braided blonde hair the only thing Bulma could focus on through her tears as they made it down the stairs and through another hall before ending up at Tights’ room. They had huddled together all night, crying, knowing they wouldn’t see their mother again. At least, not if Bulma had anything to say about it.

She had sworn then and there that _she_ would build the device, _she_ would find the map pieces, and _she_ would uncover the Dragon Star. Tights was less of an inventor and more of an explorer, so Bulma had known not to get her sister involved. She would brush her off, think her silly or childish. But Bulma studied, and she studied hard.

The legend said the Star would bathe you in riches as well as reveal the Fountain of Eternity. The fountain was most known for granting eternal youth, immortality, and power. But Bulma wanted it for another purpose. She wanted it for her mother, for her planet, and she had spent the rest of her childhood and teen years working, building, failing, and starting over again. When she finally perfected her map radar, or at least to the extent she could while still sitting at home, she began to look for a way to get off-planet. And she knew just the person to call.

Now, she had joined Goku’s crew aboard their ship, The Z-Fighter, and kept them alive more times than she could count with her weapons, capsules, quick flying, and perfected knife-throwing skills. (Chi-Chi had taught her, saying she needed to know _some_ sort of self-defense.) Her main road-block, in fact, had been finding someone who could properly read the inscriptions on the map pieces. That’s when Piccolo and Dende had come in.

Piccolo was someone Goku had fought when he was younger and the two had grown to be rivals and friends in their own way. He was a Namék, an outcast of his people, and had decided to join their crew whenever he wasn’t working on perfecting his weapons or meditating on other planets. It was during one of Bulma’s frustrating study sessions, when she had hurled her pen against the wall, that Piccolo had passed by her lab and seen the holographic pieces of scanned text floating above her table. Immediately, he had spoken up, eyes wide as he explained that the language was of his people, but only certain clans could read it, and even then, it was rare to find someone who knew it well.

Not too long after, their crew had made a quick visit to Namé upon Bulma’a insistence and they had searched and searched the clans. Finally, they had stumbled upon Dende, a young Namék of the small Dragon Clan whose smarts might rival Goku’s son, Gohan. Bulma had taken him to a private room and showed him small holographs of the bits of text she had and asked if he could read it. He had to,d her he could read it, but wanted to know what coming along with them would do for him. Bulma had promised him a home away from home, an overseer of whatever he desired, and also his own use of the Eternal Fountain. The rest was history.

Another shout from above deck caught her attention. “Boarding! Next stop, Capula!”

Then, with a whir, their on-planet boat, Nimbus, puttered away from the ship and down towards Capula. The ache in Bulma’s chest grew stronger, her urge to fly home and visit her father nearly overpowering her logic and her promise. She had sworn she wasn’t going to return home without her wish granted and her mother back at her side. The only reason they were here now was to intercept a trade with Frieza’s men; they had a piece of the map, so a distraction would be necessary for them to sneak in, grab it, and leave. That’s why more than half the crew went with Goku, leaving only Bulma, Chi-Chi, and Gohan behind.

Bulma took off her light-gray lab coat, tossed it onto a table nearby, and closed the door to her lab, locking it behind her with her fingerprint. She began to head down the hall and up to the main deck when her steps slowed. The soft blue light of her planet, her home, spilled onto the stairwell, causing the redwood and brass to silver in its glow. She paused at the base of the stairs, hands fiddling with the clip holding back her wavy, blue hair. It had been five years since she had seen her home, and she wasn’t sure if her heart could take it.

She grit her teeth, hands clenching against her soft, yellow shirt. She had promised Goku to be ready if anything went wrong, and she was not going to go back on that promise. He was the captain and he was her friend; she would not let him down when they were so _close_. Years of searching and they might find _two pieces_ within a year! And, according to the radar she had built, the last remaining pieces were not too far apart either.

_We cannot lose this chance._

She took a deep breath, straightened, and walked up the steps to manage the helm. This ambush would work. It had to.

 

 

 


	3. The Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma has to make a new plan. Vegeta discovers there is another Saiyan.
> 
> ........
> 
> Written To:
> 
> Starfleet - Two Steps from Hell  
> Pegasus - Two Steps from Hell
> 
> (All music rights go to Thomas Bergersen)
> 
> .........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I switched to HTML format here, I'll see which one I like better! Also, apologies for any typos, I wrote this chapter nearly entirely on my phone.

 

**Bulma:**

Watching the monitors was not fun. She was standing at the helm, leaning against the wood and metal wheel as she kept track of the Nimbus’ flight. They had placed the Z-Fighter on the other side of the planet to avoid eye detection, and Bulma’s adjustments to the ship had allowed it to hide their presence from other ships and pirates. Because of their position, right on the edge of the shadow of night, it would take the boys quite a while to reach their destination. Hopefully, if they had done so, the calculations correctly, they would get there right as the fake hand-off was happening.

They had set up an acquaintance of Dende, a Namék named Nail, to stand in as “Piccolo” long enough to distract the pirates Frieza was sending. They also hoped it was long enough before the Devil of the Stars, Frieza’s well-known dog, killed Nail where he stood. He was supposed to hand over a fake piece of map that Bulma had made, one with four stars etched into the device, a similarity to the ones they already had in their possession. He was also supposed to hand over the cash that was owed, but that hadn’t been a problem for the heiress to Capula; she had given it to Dende along with the faux map puzzle to send of to Nail, along with their instructions on what to do.

The rest was, quite frankly, up to timing and fate.

Bulma absentmindedly flipped between the monitors, checking out the rest of the ship to be sure everything else was working smoothly. She could see Chi-Chi in the kitchen preparing a meal for when the boys returned, her mouth indicating that she must be singing along with the small radio Bulma had built for her in there. With a smile, she flipped through a few more screens, spotting their alien cat-friend, Korin, talking to Yajirobe.

Korin was quite literally a cat that could walk on two legs and talk, his slanted eyes always curved like they were smiling. The plump, short man across from him known as Yajirobe, was lazily cleaning some bean stalks that they kept potted in their rooms, plucking a few beans and tossing them into a shallow bowl of water for a rinse. The two didn’t do much around the ship, but their skill in growing those magic little beans had saved their asses time after time. Senszu Beans, they had called them, were a rare type of plant that could heal wounds and restore stamina to the consumer, and they only grew on Korin’s planet which was too far away to make frequent trips to. The two were supposed to be making a trip soon, and wouldn't be back for a couple months. As such, they were trying to leave as many beans behind as they could for the sometimes reckless crew. 

The sound of wood cracking against wood brought Bulma’s eyes back up to the deck, her eyes painfully trying to avoid looking down at her home. Gohan was there, using his father’s old but powerful sparring staff, and squaring off against a wooden figure Goku had installed. He was still young, almost ten years old, and already his strength was far beyond what Goku’s had been at that age. Chi-Chi didn’t approve of him fighting, and even when Gohan had begged to be taught, his mother had been insistent on him studying to be a good, honest person. Sure, she had married a bounty hunter (of sorts), but that didn’t mean she wanted the same life for Gohan. Watching him now, however, Bulma could see that the boy was skilled in both combat and brains, watching as the figure began to move and strike back, Gohan’s eyes narrowed and calculating, his thick, dark hair tied back away from his face as he flowed smoothly around his wooden opponent. 

Deciding not to bother him, Bulma switched back to the monitor that kept track of the crew on the Nimbus. She switched over the camera view, the image more blurred than the ones on deck as their distance stretched the quality, but she could still see everyone. Goku stood at the front, rifle slung across his back with the strap Bulma had made for it. He was looking antsy, shifting from foot to foot as they got closer to their destination, a small grin spreading across his lips. He had donned his orange coat again, the length ending right around his waist. He never did like long coats, said they got in the way, and asked Bulma to make him something protective but not too long. The end result was a bright orange jacket that could almost be considered cropped against his tall frame.

Beside him was his right-hand man, Quartermaster Krillin. He was short and had shaved his head when he joined Goku’s crew, a symbol of his life decision and that he would follow his friend anywhere. He wore a similar shade of orange to Goku, but it was more in the accents of his clothing. He was wearing a loose, white shirt and an orange vest, his pants a puffy fabric but in dark blue instead of black. Bulma could tell even with the blurred quality that he was wearing his usual black flats instead of boots like most of the crew. He had always said he felt more comfortable in them and that they were easier to take off when he wanted. His usual pouch of medicine and bandages was slung from his belt, along with a basic pistol that fired bullets made from Ki, but a less lethal dosage of it.

Then, Bulma turned the camera to take in the rest of the crew, to make sure everyone who was supposed to be there was there. Tien, a tall, super-muscled man, leaned against the wall, all three of his eyes closed as if trying to block out and distractions. He was all focus, like Piccolo. And, as if to prove her point, she saw the green Namék sitting on the floor across the ship from Tien, his eyes also closed as he meditated. Both were dressed in simple colors, a dark green on Tien and a deep purple on Piccolo. Tien, however, was topless, his pale skin showing bulging muscles and a couple deep scars.

Her eyes wandered to Launch, sitting on a bench with her blonde hair loose and wild, a green bandana tied haphazardly into it. She was loading a rapid-fire gun that she had for as long as Bulma had known her, and the bullets she used were made of metal and only that. She was more old-school in her methods, but everyone knew better than to cross her. Launch always wore brighter colors, thin strapped shirts, tight pants, and black combat boots. Today, her shirt was a fiery red, her pants a sunshine yellow and reaching just to her calves. Bulma liked Launch, and they had been hanging out every so often, but the woman knew how to blend into a background far too well. It was even harder to picture that she was even capable of something like blending in with how loud she was when she was around.

She couldn’t see Yamcha or Chiaotzu, something that immediately set her temper ablaze. Everyone needed to be there! Where the hell would those two even be? Bulma’s began a frantic flip through the cameras again, searching the ship and then searching the Nimbus again.  _Calm down,_ she told herself, trying not to explode in fury and anxiety. _You probably just can’t see them with that one camera angle. They’ll be where they’re supposed to be._

Still, she couldn’t help as she started to chew on her nails, pacing around in front of the screens as she tried to think of the last time she had seen either of them. Chiaotzu was usually with Tien, the two being life-long buddies, but he was so small it was possible he was blending in somewhere. It was Yamcha she was worried about.

She hadn’t seen him in weeks, and her being locked up in the lab didn’t help with that. The two had been dating for a long time, but lately they had drifted apart, Bulma not finding an interest in the complacent way Yamcha had become in their romance. He didn’t seem to want to take the next step or to try anything new, and as much as she loved the idiot, she began to feel less romantically and sexually attracted to him. He was starting to feel eerily more like a relative than a life partner, and that had irritated her so much that she locked herself in her lab and hadn’t come out. Instead, she had spent all her time on building Goku his weapon and stewing over why she had started to date Yamcha in the first place, doing her best to work through her frustrations. By the time she was done working on the weapon, however, she had forgotten all about him. Now she wish she had seen him before the crew left because now _she didn’t know where he was._

“Goddammit,” she finally said aloud, her hand coming up to cover her face in exasperation. “Shit, fucking God _dammit!_ ”

The sound of Gohan sparring with the animated wooden figure came to an abrupt stop, the boy using the staff to turn its power off. He looked up at her with wide eyes, his innocent ears probably ringing. “Miss Bulma, is everything ok?”

She pulled her hand down slowly, the soft leather of her cut-off gloves grazing across her skin. Gathering herself, she took a deep breath, and dropped her hand, looking at the small boy. “Have you seen Yamcha? I can't find him anywhere on the scanners.”

The boy thought for a moment, his eyes travelling up into the dark of space. “Mmmm, I’m not sure when I last saw him. And I didn’t see everyone boarding this morning; I was in my room reading.”

She drew in a breath, trying again to steady her racing heartbeat. This was not the right time to be leaving. Unless… unless he had been sent on an errand and not returned? _But, wouldn't Goku have said something? Then again, maybe he didn’t say anything so as not to worry me? But what about the others?_ Pacing in front of the monitors, she thought furiously of every possible way and reason that he would be absent on such an important day. _Maybe he's meeting them there. Maybe there’s a part of the plan Goku didn’t tell me about. Or… maybe… maybe he left._

It wouldn’t be surprising if he had. Bulma had been shutting him out more and more, throwing herself into her inventions to stay busy and not think about their crumbling romance. And, when she thought about it, the rest of the crew had been ignoring him lately as well. The only people she could remember talking often to Yamcha were Puar, a female, shape-shifting friend from his childhood, and Krillin. But Puar had to leave a few weeks ago for a family matter and said she would meet up with them at Namék after their mission was complete. She was also the only person who may know exactly where Yamcha was.

Before Bulma could attempt to do anything, a rapid, loud beeping pierced her thoughts. She whirled back to the screens in time to see the Nimbus’ alarm lights flashing before going dead, the screen going to static and the alarm cut short. Gohan gasped from somewhere beside her, but she hardly noticed. The ambush had been so well planned, and yet things were already going wrong.

The gears in her head began turning rapidly, hands already flying over the hologram keyboards displayed beneath the screens. “Gohan, get your mother and get somewhere safe. Breakfast will have to wait; we need to go save our crew.”

“But… Miss Bulma, I don’t think my dad would want that. The Z-Fighter should stay here. I’m sure he can handle whatever is going on.”

She flashed a look at him, one that she knew looked like rage but in reality was panic. They could ditch this map piece and go collect others, but eventually they would need to get the one that the Prince carried, and now was as good a time as ever. “What if they can’t return? It looked to me like the ship was crashing before I lost connection. I can't risk them not having a getaway.”

The boy thought for a moment with her, the two “big-brains” of the ship working together to come up with a course of action. Tapping a finger to his chin, he sighed. “I’m not sure what we should do. We can't give away our position, we don’t know where Yamcha is, and if the ship _does_ crash, we'll have to go get them. At this point…”

Bulma nodded, already headed for the stairs to take her below deck and down the hall for the engine room, Gohan following close behind. “Yeah kid, you're right. At this point, it will be a test of speed.”

~*~*~*~

**Vegeta:**

Blue and yellow beams of light rained down upon them, boots slipping in the soft sand as the crew did their best to find cover. Vegeta had dove headfirst into the Namék across from him, sending them flying back into the covered entry he had appeared from. The moment they landed in the small tunnel, Vegeta picked the man up by his throat and shoved him against the wall, standing slowly as he squeezed tightly. “Who is here?!” He snarled, almost foaming at the mouth in anger. No one got the best of him, not whenever he was out on his own and completing missions. “Who are you?!”

The green man attempted a laugh but it came out in a garbled, choking sound. It might have given Vegeta some satisfaction if he wasn’t thoroughly pissed off. The Namék gasped in a few more breaths before finally managing to croak out a few words. “You'll never… get your wish… or riches… not… not someone like… you.”

Vegeta felt a growl rip through him before he threw the man against the dark stone wall and drew his sword, the sing of metal and burst of solar energy lighting the dim space as he thrust his blade for the man's heart. His blade sunk deep, the Namék cried out, and before Vegeta had a chance to think of anything else, something slammed into him with a roar, sending him flying through the vines and back onto the sand outside. Moving fast, he used his momentum to roll over and onto his feet just in time to block a punch coming right for his face.

It was another Namék, but this one was more in tune with the description Vegeta had been given in the first place. Narrowing his eyes, the prince found his footing and swung sideways, pushing the man over and landing a hard kick to the man's back. The Namék recovered quickly, whirling back around to face Vegeta, his eyes glinting in anger. Vegeta merely clicked his tongue in annoyance, his defensive stand still up as he kept an ear out for gunfire coming their way. “Nice of you to show up, Piccolo.”

The Namék was more lean than the mass he had originally been speaking and fighting with, his features more angular and his stance more fit for defense than offense. Still, the man knew how to throw a good, calculated punch, the pink patches of skin tightening over his muscles. He merely grunted in response and Vegeta dropped into a fighting stance. “You're late. Hand over the three-star map piece.”

Piccolo grunted again, mumbling something to himself before saying, “If you think I would do that, then you're more of a fool than I've heard you are.”

Vegeta's blood instantly boiled, lips pulling back in a snarl before launching himself at the man. They traded blow after blow, blocking and connecting, and Vegeta was impressed by the man's skill against him. However, it didn’t take too long before he was pushing Piccolo back, his eyes widening in surprise as his feet slid around in the sand. Vegeta landed a hard punch to his gut and then followed up with a swift kick that sent the man hurtling into the rock wall behind him.

The man spat up purple blood, coughing roughly, and Vegeta merely glared at him disdainfully before walking over to where his sword had fallen in the sand. Picking it up, he felt his own energy activate the solar panel braided into the hilt and the metal, a yellow glow brightening the dark canyon. He stalked up to his enemy, sword ready at his side, and when Piccolo looked up, there was a flicker of fear. Vegeta knew what he must look like to the man, since the expression on his face was like so many others before he killed them. He was a demon, a pirate, a mercenary. He killed when he was told and killed when he wasn't. He was the man with one glowing, red eye that shone with murderous intent. To others, he wasn’t a prince who had lost everything, nor was he a man. He was just a monster.

Gritting his teeth, Vegeta lifted the blade, Piccolo's body limp and eyes unfocused as he tried desperately to get to his feet, to lift himself from the pile of rubble he now lay in. Just as Vegeta lunged, a sharp whistling noise split the air between them, a thin blue beam hitting Vegeta's blade. The energy bullet knocked his sword sideways, causing the fire and metal to plunge into the rocks beside the nearly unconscious Namék and Vegeta's balance to be thrown. Another beam fired from somewhere up above them, and Vegeta narrowly dodged it, pushing off the ground forcefully and swinging behind a rock just as another blast came his way.

“Kami, how _annoying_.” Vegeta grouched, using the lens over his eye to scan through the rock and check for heat signatures. There. Someone was crouched low with some kind of rifle tucked into their shoulder, firing away at his crew down below. Other heat signatures registered around the figure, smaller standard pistols in their hands. Thinking fast, Vegeta realized he had been separated from Raditz during the chaos. Switching on the old com unit in his ear, he concentrated on locating Raditz' signal. When he found it, he found himself to be both relieved and annoyed. Sure, Raditz was a pain in his ass, and sometimes he wanted to leave him on a planet and never see him again, but he was also one of the only survivors of their race. “Raditz!”

He heard the man make a strangled noise that sounded like surprise before a rougher grunt followed, the sound of someone's screaming in the background going quiet. “Dammit Vegeta, don’t yell! You caught me off guard.”

“Shut up and listen. I need you to take out that sniper on the cliff so I can find the map piece we need. Also, address me as Captain, you idiot.”

“Sorry, Captain. Where is he located?”

“About thirty yards from the ship, up at the very top. I found him with a heat signature; he’s using a type of rifle I’ve never seen before. Kill him and then come back to the ship.”

“Aye.”

Cutting the com off, he watched with his lens, impatient in case his enemies got away with the piece they needed. When he saw a mass of glowing heat tackle the sniper, he leapt out from him space behind the rock, his Galick already in his hand and humming with energy, the etchings in the metal glowing a vibrant purple. Piccolo was gone, but he had left a trail of blood in the sand, so he merely followed it, retrieving his sword as he went. Screw hand-to-hand, he was just going to shoot these bastards and be done with it.

Solar bullets were flying everywhere, from the top and bottom of the canyon, a few of Vegeta's men having fallen already. A few were trying to climb the cliffside while also firing their weapons, falling hard into the sand below if their wounds didn’t kill them first. He hissed, their weakness disgusting him as he kept to the shadows. He was going to get that map piece if it cost him the whole crew.

Deciding to stick to his own agenda, he followed the purple blood trail back through the curtain of vines. The mysterious Namék from earlier was gone, but a large pool of purple blood told him the man would be dead any moment. Good. No one fooled the prince and got away with it.

He exited the wide tunnel and entered lush jungle, the vibrant yellows and deep greens and blues of the foliage reminding him of the jungles back on Sei. Shaking himself, he pushed on, his mind and body on high alert. This would be a perfect place for camouflage, especially for a Namék whose body already reflected many of these hues. Keeping his footing light, he crouched lower, no longer using his eyes to follow the blood. Instead, he sniffed it out, following the stench of death and fear. However, he found it was hard to stay quiet with the coin pouch in his pocket, and he hated moving so slowly. Shrugging off his long, dark coat, he gently pushed in under a dense bush to come back for after he took care of business.

Slinking through the shadows, pistol at the ready, he kept his nose and ears focused on the closeness of his targets. He had finally picked up their scent, his scanner telling him there was an energy source dropping rapidly somewhere within the next hundred yards. After walking for another five minutes, careful to stay in the shadows, he finally spotted a break in the dense foliage. The trees opened into a nearly flat clearing, boulders and tall trees spotted around it. It wasn’t a rounded area, but it was enough for a ship to land there if you had the right pilot. And there, just along the edge of the trees, were the two Naméks, Piccolo crouched down beside the other, bulkier man as blood spilled from his chest and mouth.

They muttered something to one another, and even though Vegeta had senses that were heightened beyond that of a human, he still wasn’t quite close enough to pick apart words. He felt the air vibrate around him as they spoke and, suddenly, there was a bright flash of blue light. When the spots cleared from Vegeta's vision, he noticed that the life energy of the other Namék had left his physical body. However, an edge of his ki seemed to linger in the edges of Piccolo's, something which both baffled and concerned him. His scanner detected that Piccolo was much stronger now.

Still.

Vegeta crept forward, eyes never leaving Piccolo as the man slowly closed the glassed-over eyes of his comrade. It was strange; the Namék seemed to have no remorse in his eyes. Instead, he had a cool, detached look on his face, like acceptance to death was all he could see and all he would see. It was almost funny. In that moment, he seemed to be a lot like Vegeta.

Just as he was aiming his pistol for the man's chest, focusing his energy and killing intent enough to charge his ammo, he heard a crashing through the leaves somewhere about ten yards to his right. Dropping into an even lower crouch, he watched as someone went flying past both him and Piccolo, colliding with a tree that promptly cracked before tilting over and loosing its top half. Seeing who it was made Vegeta nearly explode in anger and frustration.

Raditz lay in a heap, eyes unfocused as he lay at the base of the half-felled tree. His white shirt was tattered in places, exposing the strange armor he always wore underneath. Even the armor was scratched. His face and arms revealed new bruises and a couple open wounds, his hair messed up even more than usual and his green scouter was nowhere to be seen. His usually nice pants were ripped nearly to shreds, and his gun holster was empty. All he had now was his dagger held loosely in one hand, and his other held in a fist that was already bloodied.

Before Vegeta could jump up and kill the pathetic fool himself, a cough arose from the direction Raditz had been flung from. “Oh man… that hurts.”

Another man emerged, a human, with black hair sticking up in random directions and wearing a hideously orange jacket that looked like the sleeves had been ripped off recently. He was wiping blood from his mouth, the man also looking banged up to nearly the same extent as Raditz. But, something about him felt familiar. His build, the way he stood, the focused intensity of his eyes as he looked across at his opponent. Vegeta couldn’t quite place his finger on it.

Raditz moaned, and Vegeta noticed that he felt around his waist for a tail that was no longer there. Frieza had taken their tails from them within the first year of serving him, taking great pleasure in making them squirm and cry out involuntarily as he severed their appendages. Even after all these years, he could still feel the ghost of it, and watching Raditz now, he realized he wasn’t the only one. In fact, if he wasn’t so disappointed with Raditz' current position in this fight, he might feel a sliver of pity for him.

As Raditz got to his feet, the other man in the ripped orange jacket and dark, poofy pants, made his way over to the Namék. “Man, that guy is _strong_. I might need your help on this one, Piccolo.”

 _His voice is annoying._ Vegeta thought to himself, already running scenarios through his head on how to come out of this victorious and with the information he needed to get the next map piece. He gave the goofy-looking guy a sweep with his scanner and his energy level came up fairly low. He frowned. _If his levels are that low, Raditz shouldn't be losing to him. What is going on?_

Raditz finally got to his feet, his lips drawn back in a very Vegeta-like way, eyes narrowed in anger. His ki spiked back to it’s normal level, but this time it was edging on something higher. A wave of envy and anger swept over the prince. _No. There is_ no way _a loser, a pawn, like Raditz would ever achieve Ascension. If he does… oh, I will_ kill _him._

The man in orange lost his aloof expression and turned back to Raditz, eyes steely. “Are you sure you want to keep fighting? I mean, I’m willing to, but you don’t seem to be doing so well against me.”

Raditz coughed up a dry laugh, spitting a glob of blood off to the side. “What d'ya know, Kakarot? You're just as strong as everyone said you would be. However, don’t think you can win against me. I have more experience in battle than you could ever imagine. So, I’m going to offer once more. Join me, join the Frieza Force, and live to see tomorrow and see riches beyond your wildest dreams. What do you say, little brother?”

Vegeta had to clench his jaw tightly so as not to give away his position. Had he heard right? Kakarot, the weird guy in orange, was a Saiyan? No… no, he couldn’t be! The only Saiyans left were him, Nappa, and Raditz. How could this guy have survived the planet being blown up? Even more importantly, how could Raditz be losing this fight?! Raditz had told Vegeta that his father, Bardock, had been a strong warrior, but he was only a third class Saiyan. Bardock and his sons had the genetics of pawns on a chess board; strong soldiers and not too much more. And Vegeta knew Raditz had battle experience likely years before his supposed brother had been born.

“Don’t listen to him, Goku.” Piccolo stood up beside him, body alert and ready to jump in if needed. “There's no way this guy is your brother. That aside, the Frieza Force is an army of dark people.”

“I know,” Kakarot frowned a little before turning and giving Piccolo a half-smile. “Those guys aren’t my style.”

Raditz roared and charged Kakarot and Piccolo, both men dropping into fighting positions. Vegeta focused on his pistol, readying to fire, and deciding to take out the Namék first. Usually, throwing himself into a fight with nothing but his fists and his sword were his preference, but his curiosity of this new Saiyan made him cautious. Something about this whole ambush and fight felt off.

As Vegeta was squeezing the trigger, a yellow glow brightening his spot in the nearly blue-looking shade, a loud horn clattered through the clearing. An odd-shaped, planet-cruiser hurtled over the tree tops, its fading yellow paint curving across the wood and metal almost like clouds. Its engines sputtered strangely, as if it were barely holding together, but it sailed smoothly and quickly, its sudden appearance causing him to lose focus as his finger pulled back on the trigger.

His shot grazed Piccolo, the yellow, sphere of a bullet burying itself into a tree as the man cried out. Cursing under his breath, he holstered his gun and reached for his sword. His blood burned with the thought of a good fight, and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. The horn sounded again just as Raditz tackled Kakarot back into the brush, their fighting echoing through the trees as Piccolo's eyes scanned the area, a hand covering his wound. The air was finally beginning to crackle with tension, just the way Vegeta liked it.

He shot out from his hiding place, sword leaving its sheath as his speed and closeness surprised the green man. With a swift move of his arm, Vegeta thrust the sword forward, piercing the flesh of the man's arm as he attempted to dodge the attack. Piccolo grunted in pain, but went in for a counter attack, sharp nails swiping right for the prince's face. He ducked back, turning his blade to attempt a cut at his opponent's chest. Piccolo jumped back, his body tense as both of his arms bled from Vegeta's attacks. The prince had been sure to cut at the muscles that gave most of the arm's control, rendering Piccolo's upper body nearly useless. In the background, he could still hear the faint sounds of Raditz and Kakarot fighting, their strength leaving no room for doubt about the tall, goofy guy. He was a Saiyan for sure.

Piccolo heaved a breath, the sound coming across as annoyance. “I never thought I would live to see the Devil of the Stars himself. Or, at least, I knew if I ever did, it would be my last day.” His gruff voice turned into amusement, his mouth pulling into a small grin. “But, today won't be my last.”

“What makes you so sure?” Vegeta grumbled, already standing in another offensive stance, ready to strike. “I have this fight in the bag. Now, I might let you live, if you give me the information I was promised about the next location of the map piece.”

The Namék laughed, the sound edged with genuine humor. “Please, we both know you would never let me leave this planet alive either way.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that. “You're a smart one, Namék. Regardless, I want that information and I want it _now_ , or I’ll make your death a slow one.”

Silence fell between them, the air ripe with killing intent. Vegeta always counted to himself in these moments. On three, he attacked his enemy and would beat him with his bare fists until they talked. If he reached the number five, he would kill his enemy in any way he saw fit, informant or not. He didn’t have the time to waste. If he couldn’t get his hands on what he wanted, than he would take whatever was left of his pathetic crew and find the damn map piece himself. At least he had the weapon blueprints and the payment that were owed. Two for three wasn’t bad, but it didn’t make him any less angry. He wanted what he wanted, and he would kill to get it.

_One._

Another horn sounded, and shouting rose up from somewhere behind them, over by the cliffs they had come from. Vegeta blocked it out, only focused on himself, Piccolo, and the job.

_Two._

A roar from Raditz nearly pulled his attention, the scanner the key over his eye nearly burning at the sudden rise in combat energy between the two Saiyans. Still, he ignored it, his stance widening as he prepared to launch himself at Piccolo. The man just stood there, that stupid grin still on his face, as if he had already won.

_Three._

A thunderous boom filled the air and a heavy explosion rocked the ground beneath their feet, knocking both the men off balance. Looking up, a massive ship entered the atmosphere at an alarming speed, its cannons smoking from the attack it had just launched over near Vegeta's ship. Not even a second later, everything around him moved so quickly, he almost couldn’t keep up.

Raditz ran back through the trees and tackled Vegeta to the ground, just as a large, blue beam of energy burned the air where they had been standing. Shoving the bleeding, bumbling idiot off of him, he rolled over onto his feet to see who had fired. A hole had burned through the foliage to reveal Kakarot, his gaze already over by Piccolo as he removed a large rifle from his shoulder. The same, strange, custom rifle he had seen firing down on them from the cliffs. _How is it able to fire something that strong?! A blast like that should’ve knocked the fool off his feet, and yet he stands as if it was nothing._

An angry jealousy washed over him, but there was no time to do anything. Kakarot was fast, nearly invisible as he suddenly appeared by Piccolo's side and hooked one of the man's bleeding arms over his shoulders, rifle in his other hand. Then, the same small ship that had flown over them earlier, zoomed back over the tree tops, lowering itself enough for the two men to jump in before taking off once more. Vegeta wasted no time. Leaving Raditz where he was, the prince raced through the brush, scooping up his coat along the way. He cut any greenery that was in his path, bursting through the curtain of vines less than a minute later. The cliffs were on fire, some of the sand turned to glass from the heat of the cannons above. His men were nearly all dead, except Jeice and about three others. Jeice was fighting with a small, bald guy, the two not very different in height or strength. Ignoring their fight, he realized his ship wasn’t blown to pieces, but it was definitely damaged somehow.

His ship sparked and shuddered as if it were a living thing that was being electrocuted. Just looking at it told him that no one could touch it. He gave the ship a quick scan and, at first, he couldn’t place what was off about it. At least, not until he realized that the Four Star map piece was no longer in its locked safe.

Realization dawned on him. This ambush was never meant to kill him and his men. It was meant to serve as a distraction to get the Four Star piece from them, and then disappear.

A war cry ripped from his throat and he launched himself at the small man in a similar, headache inducing orange as Kakarot. His foot made a solid impact, the feel of a bone snapping and a wail of pain bringing slight reprieve to his boiling blood. “The Four Star piece is gone! Get this ship running, now! We are going after them!”

Jeice stepped up to him, his red face twisted in anger. The guy had never shown real respect for Vegeta, but he usually followed orders well. He knew that Jeice wanted to go back to filling his position with the Ginyu Force, another of Frieza's elite fighting teams, but he had been assigned with Vegeta almost as a spy. Still, Vegeta had kept mostly to himself and had only revealed his plan to overtake Frieza to Nappa and Raditz, who he knew would keep silent. Looking at Jeice now, however, Vegeta felt the first real urge to just kill the white-haired alien where he stood.

“Why weren’t you protecting the ship? That’s the whole reason I brought you!” Vegeta growled, his temper flaring higher by the second.

Jeice grunted in distaste. “I was, _Vegeta_ , but when that enemy ship's cannon fired, it made quite the mess. While it was flying overhead, some wench with blue hair chucked a little device down and it landed right on the Pod, shutting down its power. There wasn’t anything I could-”

Vegeta punched the man right in the face, cutting off his excuses before he really did kill him. “You failed me on this, Jeice. Fix the ship now, or I’ll have your head!”

He nodded even though his nose was now running in a steady stream of blood, eyes blazing with fury. Vegeta knew his attack on Jeice would be reported back to the Ginyu Force, but he could care less at this moment. His Four Star piece was gone, and he was going to chase down that ship, get back what was his, and kill every last member on board if it was the last thing he did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out to you guys! I actually really struggled with this chapter and I'm not sure why.  
> My plot also might be a little shaky, but again, this is all new for me so I'm doing the best I can at the moment!  
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and look forward to another one soon! I'm already working on it :)


	4. The Capture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written To:
> 
> This is War - 30 Seconds to Mars
> 
> All music rights go to the band and their production studio!

**Vegeta:**

It took his crew less than a minute to pry the small, circular gadget from the ship. It surprised him that something that small and crushed together out of spare metal scraps and wires, could shut down the Pod. The remains of his crew managed to get away with several blisters across their hands and arms, but that was all. If anything, if served them right for not properly guarding their only fast way off this stupid, blue planet. He was now standing atop the cliffs, sending out a signal with his com unit that everyone needed to get back to his location _immediately_. He hated seeing that small, stupid yellow ship soaring up towards the star cruiser out above the ocean, attempting to leave the atmosphere. Its engines groaned and, if Vegeta had to guess, whoever had been piloting had burned up the thrusters trying to get here in time to save their comrades. A foolish move, really. Had it been him, he would’ve taken his time getting here; if his crew was really as strong as they always claimed to be, then he wouldn’t have to show up to help them.

However, it didn’t escape him that they had launched a clever surprise attack and had wiped out over half his boarding crew. But, no matter. He knew how fast The Royal was, and with the enemy’s thrusters needing time to cool down enough to get them off this planet, let alone this galaxy, he knew he had a little time on his hands. Glancing down, he saw the last member board the ship, Raditz barely managing to stand next to the ramp as he waited for Vegeta. Using the small thrusters set in the bottom of his boots, he focused his ki beneath his feet to help him jump down from the clifftop. He still hadn’t mastered flying, but that was mostly because he was always in space on board The Royal, so he didn’t have the room or the time. Instead, he had opted to build the miniature engines into the thick soles of his boots and accompanied those with his ki to give him some boost and control.

Landing smoothly beside Raditz, he motioned with his head for the other Saiyan to go before him, arms crossed tightly across his chest. “Raditz, I don’t know what’s going on, and I expect a full explanation. However,” he held up a hand to stop the man from speaking, his bloodied mouth hanging open. “I don’t want to hear it until we have our map piece back. You are to do exactly as I say and not speak a word until then, understood?”

The massive man blinked twice and gave a curt nod, his mouth snapping shut. Even that idiot knew better than to talk back, especially now that Vegeta's temper was absolutely boiling over. The large man boarded quickly, Vegeta following close behind and slamming his palm against a button just inside that brought the ramp up. Moving quick, he jumped into the pilot’s chair and activated the manual controls with a few swift keystrokes. Two handles unfolded from the arms of the seat and Vegeta settled into his seat, the crew around him scrambling to get themselves strapped into their seats before they were flung about the small, circular room.

Everyone knew Vegeta was a fantastic pilot, but he made for an intense ride when in a chase. No one could escape him, but it also meant leaving with a few bruises along the way. He didn’t wait for them, he never did, and so the moment the engines were ready for launch, he pushed forward, full speed ahead. Their liftoff was swift, and he couldn’t help but glance out the window at the enemy ship as its engines glowed, sputtered, and went out, a small trail of smoke starting to weave its way into the sky. Perfect. They still had plenty of time, even more than he thought if the opponent needed to make repairs.

Breaching the atmosphere was tough at the speed they were flying, the metal and wood rattling so loudly, he wondered if the Pod was falling apart. But then, just as Raditz shot him a wide-eyed look of concern, they entered space, leaving the stratosphere in seconds. Vegeta gently pulled back on the thrusters, The Royal coming quickly into sight against the soft blue glow of the planet. The Pod swerved into its docking spot, Vegeta's piloting knowing both ships so well that even with the speed they were going, he didn’t scratch either surface. He stood from his seat and strode towards the door, once again leaving most of the crew behind as the ramp dropped gently down onto the deck outside.

“Listen up!” Vegeta barked, his voice carrying across the crew as they were still attempting to stand at attention with their sudden arrival. “We were attacked by a party of bandits. They took the Four Star piece and we are going to get it back! Ready the ship for departure!”

Shouts of “aye captain" rang out across the deck before the clunking of boots and slap of bare feet began to fill the air once more. Ropes and pulleys dropped and moved, sails were unfurled, and Vegeta felt himself starting to get fired up, finally back in his element. The gentle sway of the ship as it hovered in place, the telltale hum of the engines as they started to warm up, the shouts of his crew as they followed his every command, all of it made him feel in control.

It was what he wanted, what he craved; complete control over his ship, his crew, his life. He was still working on that last one, and it was why he was so desperate to get the Four Star piece back. He needed the map pieces so that, when he brought them to Frieza's planet, he could use their power for himself, right in front of the pale bastard's face.

Only Nappa and Raditz knew of his plan, and no one else. He couldn’t risk telling another soul. Not that it mattered; he didn’t like to talk to the two remaining Saiyans as it was, much less anyone else.

He grinned to himself, his eyes doing a quick sweep of the ship as he stood by the helm, deactivating his scanner and taking the contact out of his eye. He didn’t need it, not when he was out here. All he needed were his wits and experience. Placing the small device in its container, he slipped it back into its pouch around his waist before handing his coat over to Raditz. The man had been following him, his eyes betraying how badly he wanted to talk, but keeping silent under his captain's orders. “Put this in my room, if you will. Then activate the gravity controls in all the rooms. Hopefully this will go smoothly, but I don’t want to hear complaints if the crew's belongings end up in deep space.”

Raditz took the navy coat in his large hands and nodded sharply, turning to head down the steps and across the deck towards Vegeta's living quarters, limping slightly as he went. It was strange sometimes, seeing the man as he was now, Vegeta thought to himself. The two Saiyans had grown up together, in a way. They were in the same training camp as children, the two being taught how to fly, to control their ki, to fight. Raditz was older by two years, and already much bigger than Vegeta even at their young ages, but the prince was fast and he was cunning. He won most fights against Raditz and stopped losing to him within a year. The same year their home was destroyed.

Pulling himself from the memory, he grit his teeth and flipped a few switches on the panels around the helm. A deep, slow rumble went through the ship as the engines thrusters began to warm up. He didn’t have time to think about the past. Right now, he had a ship to catch.

 

~*~*~*~

 

**Bulma:**

She was spitting profanities at the engines as she chucked a wrench across the room and into the farthest wall. Around her were sparking wires and hot, reinforced metal, heat waves pulsating from the vents on either side of the two massive thrusters. The tanks of solar energy weren’t depleted, but the engine had overheated far more than she had predicted it would, causing metal parts to warp and burst as they had breached the atmosphere. Honestly, it was a miracle they hadn’t crash landed straight into the vast jungle or dipped out of the sky into the ocean. Anxious and frustrated as she was, at least her ship had held up.

Gohan had stayed up on deck to make sure everyone made it back safely, his mother piloting the ship to the best of her ability. Everyone onboard the Z-Fighter knew how to pilot, but only three of them were exceptionally good at it, and Chi-Chi was not one of them. To top everything off, she could feel the cruiser beginning to lose altitude bit by bit. She had long ago ditched her stuffy cotton lab pants and traded them for a sleek, breathable black material that was of her own invention, built specifically for working in this impossibly hot room. Her yellow tank top was drenched in sweat and she had to keep wiping stray, wet blue hairs from her eyes as they escaped the red bandana currently holding the rest of her curly hair back.

Another hiss of steam escaped one of the thrusters and she squeaked as another panel popped open, the heat obviously still bending some of the metal. Solar energy was great, especially for fast and efficient travel upon a star-cruiser. But, in this instant, she wished they had some comet dust left in their now cracked tanks to cool the air in here. It was far too hot. She could feel her face flushing, her eyes itching, and her mouth was completely dry.

“You can’t give up, Bulma,” she said to herself, leaning her head back to try and take a breath that wasn’t searing her lungs. “The team is counting on you. Come on, you can fix this.”

Pushing herself to catch a new wind of energy, she reached into her tool belt and grabbed a set of pliers and copper wire. She got up and began with the thrusters, their silver metal now smeared with black soot from the small fire she had managed to put out upon entering the room a while ago. Usually, if she was just doing repairs and upgrades, she would set thick cloth or pillows down onto the grating beneath her feet, but she had no such luxury now. The metal bit into her skin through her pants, her knees already protesting to what she knew would be the longest ten minutes of her life. If she had even that long.

The Devil’s small transporter ship had breached into the stratosphere at breakneck speed and showed no signs of stopping. If everything she had heard about the man they had targeted was true, she knew he wouldn’t let them live alive if he could help it. As long as she was on board, however, she was going to be sure that they escaped. She may not be a fighter, but she knew a lot about ships, weapons, and engineering. She knew without a doubt that she was the only one who could mend this ship.

Bulma was nearly done rewiring the first thruster, her hands already holding the panel over the circuits so they wouldn’t pop out, when she heard someone coming down the metal stairs and into the room. She shoved the stiff wires and electrical tape down, clamping the metal plate over them and working fast to hold it down just right to weld it down.  
“Hey, Bulma, how can I help? We have to get out of here as soon as possible.”

Shocked, she glanced up just long enough to see Goku, his jacket, blue shirt, and rifle discarded outside the narrow opening. He was wearing a sleeveless white top and had slipped on a pair of black gloves made of the same heat-resistant material as her pants. He was slightly bruised, she noticed, but as usual, he seemed not to notice. Instead, he was looking at her intently and with an urgency that surprised her.

Right now, she didn’t have time to point out that he knew very little, if anything, about the engines in here. Instead, she set her mouth and motioned with her head for him to join her. He knelt down and she handed him the small, nearly pen-sized laser she had been using to weld the metal plate down. “Finish sealing this shut, as carefully as you can. I’m moving to the other thruster,” she was already moving, her tools in hand as she walked twenty feet to the left. “This is gonna be a patch job. I’ll do what I can, but I can’t guarantee we can outrun the other cruiser. At least, not for very long.”

He was already at work, his current seriousness a rarity as he moved the tool’s burning laser along the last bit of paneling. “That’s fine, let’s just get going as fast as we can. We can get to a nearby planet and cloak the ship to do full repairs if we need to.”

Her hands burned as she yanked the metal plating open and began to work. She rewired the other thruster, small sparks still popping up here and there to bite at her fingers. Ignoring it, she continued her quick work, pulling out chunks of singed, blackened wires and shoving new, naked ones in their place. Kami, she hoped this would work. Goku finished his work and came to crouch beside her just as she was readying the panel to be replaced. Something in his eyes was off, his brows drawn in a strange worry that she had never seen on him before.

“Goku?” She questioned, his expression throwing her off so completely that she forgot about their need to hurry. “Are you alright? You seem… off.”

He blinked and shifted his black eyes to her, a smile tugging at his lips. But, they could both feel how half-hearted it was and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah jeez, I didn’t want to worry you too. Look, don’t worry about it. We have to get this beauty into the air before she ends up floating in the ocean. I’ll fill you all in later.”

The determined look was back in his eyes and she grinned before moving away to let him weld the panel shut. She had managed to stop the sparks in this thruster, but it had still felt unstable as she pulled nearly half the circuits out. Man, she had _really_ fried this thing. “I’m sorry about the ship, Goku. I was too eager to help after seeing the Nimbus crashing.”

“Don’t worry, Bulma. We’ll talk about it all after we’re clear of this place.”

Bulma felt a rare wave of emotion as she moved over to the main engine. This was her home planet, a beautiful blue pearl among many rough, ugly dust planets with little to no life. Capula was an oasis amongst a desert of dying worlds in a shrinking galaxy. She hadn’t seen it in years, and now she was doing everything she could to get as far away from it as possible.

Lifting up the still hot metal grating, she could lay on her stomach to get better access to the more damaged parts of the engine. The metal did its damned best to burn through her shirt, but she grit her teeth and continued to trade out tools from her belt as she worked as fast as she could. This was no time to be thinking about home. She would be back someday, and it would be with her mother.

Goku appeared beside her and she instructed him to do some of the heavier lifting for her, both of them obviously trying to work hard enough to distract from whatever they were thinking of. It took a lot, but she finally managed to strip enough burned panels from the engine’s sides to let it breathe. She worked fast, fingers red from the heat and small blisters already popping up in some places where she had touched a wire that was still glowing. She cursed herself for not remembering to change her gloves, but they were in her room instead of down here with her engine gear, and she cursed herself again for having taken them to her living quarters in the first place. Forcing herself to not think of the mounting pain in her hands, she taped, wired, tightened, and hammered the engine until it finally started to groan and hum itself back to life.

Just as she went to start rearranging some metal panels for breathing room, Goku touched her wrist gently. “Let me. Your hands don’t look like they can take much more. Bandage those and go above deck; I need you to kick this baby into high gear.”

Wanting to argue but knowing they had already spent far too much time down here, she relented. She gave lightning quick instructions on where things needed to go and jogged up the stairs, tearing open small bandages as she did. Her burned fingers reacted instantly to the cooler air in the hallways leading to the main deck, the blisters seeming to sigh with a relief she knew was only temporary. They would hurt like all hell the next morning.

As she breached the opening above her, she could see the chaos as everyone triple-checked the sails, weapons, defenses, and crew members. She noticed that Yamcha still wasn’t around, but it was a passing thought compared to the man she now saw laying under the stairs leading to the helm. Piccolo knelt beside him, covering him in some kind of soft, white cloth, and she knew it was a shroud of sorts. Not really thinking, she paused at the bottom of the stairs and caught his eye.

“It was Nail.” Piccolo replied, his tone flat. She could tell he was trying not to show how upset he was, so she said nothing. “He died trying to fight that Frieza's Devil. The bastard stabbed him in the chest. I didn’t get to him in time.”

“Piccolo. It isn’t your fault. He knew the risk…” Her voice caught in her throat as he looked up at her once more, eyes slightly dulled in his loss. “We all know the risk. We will bury him properly once we’re safe, but right now, I need you to master the cannons and have everyone battle ready.”

It was a small moment, but he nodded and, with a last glance at Nail’s dead body, he strode back into the madness that was the rest of the crew. Taking the stairs two at a time, she saw Chi-Chi still at the helm, her gentle steering of the wheel somehow having angled them to be less above the deep waters and more near the shallows. Smooth move.  
Upon seeing Bulma, Chi-Chi’s eyes lit up and she waved her over fervently. “Oh thank _Kami_ you’re back! I think we’ve bitten off more than we can chew, don’t you?”

“Possibly,” she mumbled back, gently shifting into the position that her friend had just been in. “But we can get out of this. Go below deck and check that all the gravity receptors are on for all the rooms. It’s going to be a rocky, fast launch out of here, and I want to keep damages to a minimum. And please, hurry!”

Chi-Chi nodded and left the quarter deck to head below. Bulma gripped the wheel and watched as the sails unfolded, glowing slightly as they began to soak in the sun’s rays above them, gathering more energy. The ship hummed beneath her, though it also occasionally shuddered, and she began to truly feel the anxiety that she hadn’t done enough. With shaking fingers, she reached for the lever next to the mounted wheel and gave it a strong pull towards herself, a small pedal popping up from the wood near her feet. With practiced efficiency, she put her foot down on the pedal while pushing the lever forward, praying that she would hear the low whistle of the thrusters starting.

Nothing happened.

“Come on, baby, come _on_.” She pleaded, caring not that there was a small shout from Gohan up in the crow’s nest of an incoming ship on his mounted console. She tried again, the monitors around her starting to beep of an incoming ship, and then again as a target-locking system began to scan the cruiser. Shouts began to ring out towards her, telling her to do something, to hurry, to get moving. Bulma blocked it all out and prayed to Kami once more as she roughly pressed the pedal back into the floor, thrusting the lever forward. This time, she slid her fingers across one of the floating, holographic monitors that controlled the force of the thrusters and she heard them, finally, sputter to life. The engine rumbled, the thrusters warmed, and the ship began to gain altitude quickly.

It wasn’t going to be enough.

Dread dropped like a stone into her stomach as a sleek, shining, massive battleship began to cut through the clouds. She pushed the thrusters as far as she dare, the Z-Fighter gaining speed as it rose towards the clouds, but the other ship was obviously faster, and by a terrifying margin. If they made it off-planet at all, it would probably be in pieces. No, Bulma would do something else. _This is going to be possibly the_ dumbest _thing I ever do._ Her thoughts soured but, in what felt like a blink of time, she made a decision.

She turned their ship to face the enemy head-on.

 

~*~*~*~

 

**Vegeta:**

The prince nearly laughed out loud as he saw the damaged star cruiser turning towards them. Maybe this chase would be far easier than he had originally thought. Only true, brave fools ever faced him in battle; almost everyone ran away. He felt a gleam of respect shine through his hardened glare.

“Prepare for the Drift!” He shouted above the howl of the wind to his whooping, battle-ready crew. They needed no further instruction, the men jumping right to work in adjusting the glimmering sails and attaching ropes with hooks to certain, small wooden panels along the sides of the ship. They had done this many times with Vegeta as their captain, and they seemed to enjoy it nearly as much as he did. The Drift was a special move for boarding ships, one that had taken him years to master and one that had served him enormously well, since.

They were gaining ground fast, the enemy cruiser growing in size as blue-ringed fire burst from its thrusters and main engine turbines. There was still a small string of gray smoke coming from one side and Vegeta knew he would get what he wanted. There was no way in hell that the enemy would outrun or outgun them, it just wasn’t built for such things.

His grin was wide, lips pulled back over his teeth as true excitement kicked into his system. They weren’t slowing, weren't turning tail and running, and the thought of having a good battle upon their ship made his skin tingle. Closer… closer… _perfect_.

With a shout, Vegeta spun the wheel to the left, hard, his free hand slamming onto the engine dial and turning it up just a couple clicks. In nearly the same second, he threw the wheel in the opposite direction, the dial now being thrust down several clicks until it was nearly off. The result was the ship cutting sideways through the air, the sails twisted to set the airstreams along the sides and underbelly of the cruiser; to carry them. His crew tugged back on the ropes and the wooden panels pulled up to create makeshift breaks that wouldn’t stop their sideways course. They were going to slide right up to the ship and barely bump it, the crew would be thrown off by a move never seen before, and it would be just the few seconds he needed to take them all out and get what he needed.

But something strange happened.

Suddenly, the enemy ship was in nearly free-fall, plummeting from the sky at an alarming rate. The Royal slid into position, albeit in a rocky manner, and Vegeta was too distracted and surprised to sense what was coming next. Had he been paying attention, he would’ve seen the small, dark-haired boy in the crows nest as it dipped below the Royal. He would’ve seen the child tossing a sparkling bundle of wire, tape, and a capsule bomb. He would’ve been fast enough to shout for Nappa to hit the stupid, tiny thing away from the hull.

No. Instead, as the explosion rocked his ship, he found himself glaring hard at the blue-haired woman grinning smugly at him as they dropped below his line of vision. Their Captain.

He snarled, anger igniting his determination for this chase. “Oh, it's _on_.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

**Bulma:**

Even though she had appeared confident, panic was flaring up in her chest. The engine was stalling, the thrusters sputtering, and one of them had started to smoke again. Damn it all, they were dropping out of the sky too quickly, and if she didn’t get the engine going, they were going to crash into the mountain they were closing in on.

Thinking fast, she kept attempting the pedal and lever mechanism as the crew clung to the ship for fear life. She pressed a small button to the left of the wheel, something she had installed for Goku in these escape moments. Bulma had built the microphone on the wheel's center to lead directly into the engine room, and she felt so weird as she used it from the opposite end. “Goku! I need you to use your ki to kick start the engine _right now!_ ” She prayed he could hear her over the rushing wind.

“Where do I do that?!” He shouted back, an edge of nervousness in his voice. “What’s going on?!”

“The front of the engine, big door, blue and green wires attached to a steel motor! Don’t use too much, but I need you to do it _now!”_

Her friend didn't respond, but she felt the engine shudder, turn, shudder again. With a shout, she pulled the lever and slammed her foot into the pedal as she felt it shudder again. The engine started and she slid the thrusters up all the way, caution be damned. The Z-Fighter lifted quickly, jerking it's nose up towards the sky and tossing some of her crewmates to the deck floor. They began to hit atmosphere faster than she wanted, but she could hear the other ship, the one she noticed was named the Royal, gaining on them already. Her hands were basically flying as she turned on gravity reactors, set up their oxygen bubble, threw up shield defenses, and shouted for the boys to set free the sails so they could gain more speed once in the weightless span of space. The shields burned as they sped through into the stratosphere, alarms beginning to blare as Krillin appeared by her side.

“Bulma, they’re locked onto us! They have weapons I don’t think our shields can handle!” He was already bracing himself against the console beside her, firing up the weapons system and sending signals out into the crew to prepare for a fire fight. “Please tell me we can Jump to the next planet.”

“No can do, Krill. I’m sorry.” She frowned, her teeth grit, doing her best to angle the ship this way and that as the shrill alarms went off again. “Brace yourselves!” She shouted out to the crew.

The shields were hit and their cruiser jerked sideways. It took all her strength to keep upright and not crash into the delicate monitors beside her. Krillin gave a status report, his nerves pitching his voice up a bit. “Shields are at fifty-four percent, Bulma! We can take _maybe_ one more hit, but nothing more!”

Blood roared in Bulma's ears, her hands beginning to shake against the wood and metal wheel in her hands. Her knees felt weak, but she still felt the fire of determination in her gut. She looked out to the crew and narrowed into Tien, Piccolo, Chiaotzu, and little Gohan. They were manning the cannons on either side of the ship, eyes already looking down scopes and waiting for an opening. She would give that to them.

Twisting, she checked over her shoulder to see the Royal gaining on them from the right. They had maybe a thirty second window to get a good shot, if the weapons she could see had anything to do with it. Those cannons were powerful, but they had a longer cool down period than the ones she had built for this ship. “Guys, get ready to fire! I’m gonna give you the shot!”

They said nothing, but she knew they had heard, and she pulled the ship back around to face the incoming pirates, the turrets rotating to face forward instead of behind her. The stamp of the Frieza Force glared at them from the wide, silvery sails, and her stomach churned with hatred. No matter how dumb a move, if this got them out of here, she would take any chance she could get.

“Fire!” She screamed, watching as the fast, gleaming ship zipped towards them. The cannons hummed with energy and fired, the force of them startling her. Usually she was down in the engine room making sure nothing blew up, but now standing where her captain and friend should be, she felt out of her element. Thank Kami she had built a lot of this cruiser herself or she wouldn’t know what she was doing.

The yellow beams of light but their targets, slightly knocking the battleship sideways as fire spread across the silver-blue shields. The smallest sound of impact pushed through the shields between ships, nearly lost to the vacuum of space. The Captain of the Royal was obviously furious, his arms swiping through the air as he shouted orders to his crew. His crown of black, windswept hair stuck out like an inkblot against the blue of Bulma’s planet as they tried to push out of its orbit.

There was no time to turn away, and the two shields crashed into one another, becoming one bubble as time seemed to slow, the ships lining up with one another. Bulma attempted to put a burst of speed into the rear rockets, but the Z-Fighter merely lurched backwards, throwing everyone forward including herself. She hit the wheel first and fell off that as the wood turned and dumped her mercilessly to the ground, dazing her. They had claws in the sides of her ship, she could tell by the metallic clanking of steel chains and the cranking of the next ship as their shields fell.

Krillin knelt beside her to help her up, his eyebrows deeply furrowed. “They hacked the defenses and set our shields to ‘friendly boarding’. I wasn’t prepared, or I would’ve had you take over. Come on, we have to get you out of here!” He hauled her to her feet. Even though he was a great deal shorter than her, his strength was enough to bring her up from the ground.

“Let me stay and help!” Bulma cried, grabbing for the console as the hooks in the hull tightened and the two cruisers bobbed into one another.

“Look, I don’t have time to say this nicely, but you’re not a fighter! We need you to make repairs on the engine, and you need to get Goku topside!”

“Krillin –”

“Bulma, please, Yamcha would never forgive me if something happens to you!”

At the mention of Yamcha, she felt herself freeze over, fists tightening against her sides as a wave of fury began to flood her. Krillin must have realized his mistake, because he took a step back, but she knew he could still hear the words that came from her next. “If he was so concerned about my well-being, maybe he would be here right now.”

“I didn’t mean to upset –”

“No, of course you didn’t mean to upset me, Krillin. No one ever does, especially not someone as great and wonderful as Yamcha.”

“Bulma,” He pleaded, eyes wide.

“Where is he? Where did he go that he couldn’t be here to help this plan go along smoothly?” Her voice began to pitch, knuckles whitened ash she advanced on him by one, small step. “ _He_ was supposed to check over the rockets and engine on the Nimbus. _He_ was supposed to be sure that ship didn’t crash and that everyone got in and out quickly and safely! Now Nail is dead, our ship is falling apart, and the Frieza Force is _boarding_ us!”

As if on cue, there was a roar as the enemy dropped gangplanks and ran onto the deck, gunfire immediately ensuing. Bulma dropped down beneath the console, feeling for her knives and finding only a heavy wrench. She cursed harshly to herself as Krillin loaded his pistol and focused his ki into the bullets, crouching beside her.

“You can be mad at me, or him, or whoever you want,” he started, his tone even as determination set back into his face. “But I know if anyone can get us out of this, it’s you and Goku. Now, follow me, and stay low.”

It was a miracle they didn’t get shot. Krillin only had to take out three aliens wearing the typical, garish armor that Frieza made his troops wear, before arriving at the door that led down into the engine room. Bulma reached down for the hole cut into the door and pulled. Stuck.

“Goku!” Krillin shouted. When there wasn’t a response, he looked over at Bulma with a confused expression. “I… I can barely sense his ki. I think he’s knocked out.”

They tried the door again. No luck. And they were now out in the open.

“Well, if it isn’t the clever little pilot.”

The closeness of the gruff voice startled them both, and before Krillin could properly react, he was struck hard and flung over the side of the ship. Bulma screamed and reached for him, her body reacting before her logic could, and her free hand went instinctively to the wrench along her belt. She stood quickly, trying to regain her footing as she stepped backwards, but the man was in front of her so quickly, she had no time to prepare a good shot.

She tried anyway.

With a snap of her wrist, she aimed the wrench for the figure’s gut. He was faster, but the momentary shock on his face made her feel a sliver of satisfaction. His dark eyes blazed into hers, and if it weren’t for the hardness in them, she would say they looked like Goku’s. She noticed two things about him in that moment. First, she realized his other eye wasn't red like all the rumors had stated, and second, unlike the rest of the crew, this man wore no armor. It was as if he wasn't in need of any. She could see over his broad shoulders that her crew was beginning to struggle against the numbers of this man’s crew. The Devil of the Stars was here in front of her. She had failed.

He grasped her around the throat, gloved fingers digging into her skin, and she knew she would bruise, but she glared back at him anyway, trying to swallow her fear. She may not be strong physically, but she wouldn’t show weakness to him now. His black gaze bored into her, and her legs began to shake, his free hand still grasping the wrist that held her wrench. Several long seconds passed, and Bulma could hear them both breathing hard.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and strong. “You thought you could outsmart me, woman, but you are no match for my ship or my crew. And you’ll be coming with me, along with that map piece you took.”

“Says who?” She found herself pushing the words out, still trying to hang on to her courage.

He frowned deeper, the smug shine in his eyes dying at her challenge. “If you value your life, you’ll watch your tongue.”

“If you value your map piece, you’ll keep me alive.” She shot back, her mouth moving before her brain could fathom just how stupid she was being. “I’m the only one who knows where it is.”

“Is that so?” He sneered, leaning in closer. “How do I know that the others on this ugly hunk of wood don’t know where it is?”

Her cheeks flushed at his proximity, anger blazing deep in her stomach. “Well, of course they know _where_. What I meant was that I’m the only one who can _access_ the place it’s kept in.”

He thought for a moment and then pushed her back towards the open deck, hand still around her throat. She could feel the power beneath the man’s muscles, even just within his fingers, and her shaking legs made it hard to walk straight. “Then take me to it, or I’ll slaughter everyone on this ship and do it myself.”

She found herself wishing Goku would open the hatch, jump out and save the day, but that margin was becoming increasingly small. A single tear rolled down her cheek, but she kept her nose in the air.

The Devil had caught her. But Bulma Briefs had never been the type to go down easy.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have tried to post this chapter 3 times now and I REALLY hope it goes through for you all! D':  
> I'm sorry this took so long, I really did try to write it sooner! Every time I sat down to write this chapter, my words came out feeling flat and lifeless, and I didn't want that to be something you wonderful readers had to go through! I hope the wait was worth it for this one!
> 
> Thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart, for all your support on my little fic! I am having a great time writing it (when the words speak to me, at least! lol) and I appreciate all the lovely comments and votes! I have made so many friends through this fandom and I am endlessly blown away by the creativity and kindness I have found in the DBZ world!  
> Thank you all so much again, and I hope you have a lovely day!


	5. Misunderstanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know that these two are the best at misunderstanding things. This chapter is no exception to that! (More of the chapters may be that way too but, who knows! Hahah!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written to:
> 
> King Louie Kablooey // Two Steps from Hell  
> Wild Ones // FM-84
> 
> All right for music go to the composers and band(s) above! Please give both songs a listen, they are VERY different tones, but I had a great time writing to them!
> 
>  
> 
> Happy Reading!

Vegeta:

The woman was small, much smaller than his eyes and mind had thought during his brief glance at her in the chase. Her unusual hair stuck to the skin around her neck and forehead from sweat, the blue an unusual, cerulean color that gleamed brightly against the dark of space and the tan of the wooden deck. She held her head high, which he found commendable, even though he could basically smell the fear rolling off her. Their ship, the Z-Fighter, was smoking by now, and half the crew had been apprehended and were being held under a knife or pistol until he said otherwise. The remaining two, a tall Namek and a small child, were left the deal with, but he knew his men would make quick work of holding them. 

“Which way, woman?” He barked. “I don’t have time to wait around, and neither does your crew.” She hesitated, her feet faltering and her head turning as if trying to figure a way out of this situation. He felt himself roll his eyes, his patience already short from the events of the day. “Now, little Captain, or the blood of your crewmen will be on your hands.”

“My… my crewmen?” She turned her head slightly, deep blue eyes wide as they set on his. 

He gave her a small push, forcing a yelp out of her as he growled. “Yes, for Kami’s sake, stop wasting my time. I’ll give you five seconds to start leading the way before I start killing each member on this ship.”

It only took her until his mental count of second three before she started walking, her feet taking them back towards the Captain’s Quarters. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes again, thinking she was going to take him to her room, when she differed at the last moment. Instead of going through the tall, wooden door in front of them, she swung slightly left towards the underneath of the stairs. There was a small, brass door there, and when she opened it, he saw only a metal ladder leading down into darkness. “It’s down here.” She muttered, her hands shaking as she reached for the ladder.

Vegeta pulled her back roughly, her back bumping into his chest as she stumbled. “How do I know you aren’t setting me up?”

Her eyes sparked in anger, mouth twisting as she propped a hand on her hip. “You don’t. But I don’t want to see my team dead, and frankly, I could just find the map pieces after you’ve used them. So, I don’t really care if you take it now.”

It was a lie, at least some of it. He could read it in her body language; she cared a lot if he took the map piece. But something else caught his attention, something that he could tell she was starting to realize as the seconds ticked by. Finally, he felt the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth as she slowly turned back to face the door, her shoulders stiffening. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, little human,” he started, leaning close to her ear. “But, did I hear you say that you can find the map pieces? Because, at this moment, I find that far more valuable than the one I lost today.”

“Did… did I say that?” A nervous laugh escaped her. “You must have heard me wrong.”

“Oh, I don’t think I did, little human. Now, explain yourself before I start killing your crew from the youngest, up.”  
He felt her shoulders tighten as her head shot around to look to the small boy that was viciously struggling to escape the grasp of Raditz. The other Namék on board was trying to get to him, but Nappa had boarded and was now holding the man from around the neck and torso, albeit with difficulty. Vegeta frowned to himself; he would have to train more with Nappa if the old man expected to remain of any use to him. 

When she hesitated, he put up his free hand towards Raditz and put up a single finger, his index, a gesture that his men knew were levels of pain to get what he wanted. The boy was young, but he was obviously very strong, and his ki felt slightly like that of the man who Raditz had been fighting not long ago. Maybe it was that man’s son, maybe even the son of the woman in his grip, which was even better fuel for getting what he wanted. At Vegeta’s signal, Raditz began to twist one of the boy’s arms, getting a slight groan of discomfort as the child valiantly tried to hide his pain.

“Any day now, woman.” He warned darkly, raising a second finger. Raditz pulled tighter and the small fighter began to whimper in pain, causing the rest of the enemy crew that was still conscious to physically react.

Right when it seemed like the boy’s arm was going to snap from the pressure, the woman gasped in defeat. “Alright, alright, just don’t hurt him anymore! He’s just a kid, you psycho! I’ll do whatever you want, just leave him alone.”

Vegeta decided to let the rude comment pass, especially since he was going to be getting what he wanted after all. “Wise choice. Now, you will gather the piece you took from me because I don’t want to waste time coming back for it. I will follow you down there if what you say is the truth, and if it isn’t, you know what will happen. Then, afterwards, you are going to come with me and track those map pieces, whether you want to or not. I will let your crew live in exchange, but not before making sure they can’t follow. Are we clear?”

Instead of answering out loud, she swallowed and gave a curt nod. He then allowed her to lead the way, telling his own crew to watch the others as he released her so she could descend the ladder in the narrow, metal shaft. He followed right on her heels, and the woman was smart enough to wait for him at the bottom and not try to run. Her hand touched a switch of some kind, and a row of silvery-blue lights came on in spherical containers along the wall. The energy was mostly known as “Liquid Light”, a form of star-power that could be extracted in small doses and used for years. It didn’t have the power to run engines or weaponry, but it could provide energy to smaller essentials aboard a ship. Vegeta, however, had never seen liquid-light in this particular color before. Usually it was a more golden tone, like on his ship. The sight of energy he had never seen in all his years of travel set him even more on edge, and he found himself snapping a question at the woman as he eyed them. He wanted to know exactly what they were and why they glowed that color.

She eyed him as she led them down the hall. “You’re… wait, really? It’s just Liquid Light.”

He growled, almost defensively, but mostly in annoyance. “Yes, really, I’ve never seen it in this color. For all I know, they’re explosives and you’re going to take me down with you.” Not that it would kill me. I’m far stronger than you. He thought to himself.

For a split second, she almost looked like she either wanted to laugh or punch him, or both, but she did neither. Instead, she merely rolled her eyes and gave a short explanation. Still making smart decisions. “I changed the formula a bit, to make it last longer. As a result, the color changed. They aren’t explosives, so calm down.”

He couldn’t help the flash of surprise as she stopped in front of a large, rounded door and pressed her hand onto a panel in the wall. A small blue light outlined her hand before the doors slid open for them. He didn’t even know altering star-energy was possible. Before he could respond in any way, however, he snarled and grabbed her arm tightly before she could pass through the doors into the slightly darkened room. The smell of metal and antiseptics burned his highly sensitive nose, and instantly he saw flashes of his childhood. He was tortured, healed, and tortured again into submission under Lord Captain Frieza. He could feel the female’s bones straining under his strong grip and she yelped in surprise and pain, trying to wrench herself from his grip. “Hey, what gives?! I need to get that damn Four Star piece you want so badly!”

Vegeta reeled himself back in, loosening his grip but not letting her go either. He had been caught off guard, not ready for the wall of smells he hadn’t been around for years now. The weak human continued into the room, still trying to pry her arm out from his strong hand, but he gave her a small shake. “Just hurry up and get what you need. You’ve already put me massively behind schedule as it is.” He felt like he had spoken too much today, and he knew he would be locked in his training room below deck for the rest of the day after this was all over. He just had to get what he wanted and then get out.

He let the angry human lead him further into the room, the soft blue lights coming on as she pressed another small button in the wall. They were in some sort of lab, with steel, brass, and wooden furnishings. A burnt trash bin was propped against the far wall, some kind of gooey lavender foam spilling over the top of it, and a multitude of tools laced throughout the entire room. There were some form of healing tanks to his direct left, and a wide, person-height cabinet to his right. A few dismantled weapons were strewn along one of the steel tables, and along one of the wooden benches, were some small, almost ceramic-like pill containers. 

The woman stopped at an average looking desk in the far right corner and she eyed the prince warily. “I have them hidden in the floor. I need to go behind the desk and open the panel.”

He said nothing, moving her to his side and using his free hand to shove the desk away and into the opposite wall. The legs squealed slightly from the force of his push, but he minded not. Her eyes narrowed at him and he swept his hand out towards the floors impatiently. With a grimace, she stiffly bent down, one arm still in his grasp, and felt around the floor until her thumb met a spot on the linoleum floor. Another soft blue light scanned her finger before a square panel slid open, revealing several things. Vegeta was able to glance some photographs, a small golden statue of sorts, a clear tube full of rolled up papers, and an intricately carved wooden box. She quickly pulled out the box, doing her best to balance it in one arm, and shut the panel behind her. 

“It’s in here.” She stated, clearly agitated as she faced him. “Now, can we please leave?”

He looked down his nose as her and scoffed, jerking her around so she could face the door again. They left the lab, the doors shutting ab they stepped into the hall, and Vegeta nearly let out a breath of relief at the smell being abruptly cut off from his nose. Kami, he hated labs almost as much as he hated torture rooms. He pressed the female forward, noting that her neck was already beginning to bruise from where his hand had been earlier. What a weak species, he thought bitterly. 

As the two were approaching the ladder from where they had come from, Vegeta could hear some kind of commotion stirring inside the ship. He was about to ask the human what the sound was when a small boom rocked the ship slightly, and the screams of his men began to permeate the air. He had the woman up against the wall by the throat in an instant, startling her enough that she dropped the wooden box, which fell heavily. “Did you set me up?” He was nearly frothing at the mouth. He felt trapped in this narrow hallway, below deck, in a foreign ship. If she had set him up, he would just blow the entire ship apart, the map piece be damned. 

Her eyes had flown wide once more, her pink mouth parting as she gasped for air, shaking her head in a “no" gesture. He released her just enough for her to gulp in some oxygen and speak. Her voice was raspy, but her face began to flicker with sparks of anger. “I wouldn’t have set you up, especially when Gohan's life was the first one you went for. Chi-Chi and Goku would never forgive me.” 

“Who are those two?!”

“Why does it matter?!”

Before he could respond, a wave of shouting washed over them once more. Thinking fast, he looped an arm around the woman's waist and tucked her under his arm, her body stiff as she tried to struggle against his strong grip. He scooped up the box with his free hand and shoved it into her hands. “Hold this and stop moving.”

She obeyed grouchily and he looked up towards the door at the top of the ladder. Forget the damn narrow tunnel. Vegeta raised a hand up towards the ceiling, his white gloves beginning to glow with a yellow light. These gloves were still in the works and he hadn’t field tested them yet, but at the moment, he didn’t have time. Focusing as best he could, he channeled his ki into his hand and, with a burst of light, he released the beam of energy. The ceiling exploded, splinters of wood raining down on them. His hand instantly burned, and he swore harshly as he used his teeth to tear the glove off, dropping it to the floor. 

With a flick of concentration, he pushed his energy beneath his feet, his boots recognizing the force as the thrusters helped them quickly ascend through the massive hole he had created. Once on deck, he did a scan of the area, assessing the situation. He didn’t like how it was going. Chaos was all he could see, with fighting and the clang of swords, dotted with bursts of energy-loaded bullets and smoke. He was done here. He could dump the woman, take the box, and have everything he needed. But he was so past the point of patience, so beyond his limit, that he wanted to leave this crew in shambles.

So, he hoisted the woman up a bit, held her tighter, and launched himself towards the edge of the joined ships. With a shout, he had everyone frozen, his own crew looking bored while the female’s friends stared wide-eyed. He had her pulled up against his chest, the barrel of his pistol pressed lightly against her head. She still gripped the box, a smart move by her, as he balanced them both on the gently swaying deck. He made sure to paint a mask of smug indifference, as if he was watching a group of children playing war while he held the treasure.

“Move another muscle, and I’ll kill her where she stands.” He said calmly, almost gently. “My men, get back on our ship and ready the engines for a Jump.”

They began to do as commanded when he noticed Raditz tucked into a corner, nearly frothing at the mouth in anger as he stood in his fighting pose against another man. The man from earlier, he realized. The one Raditz had said was his brother. 

“Raditz! I have another job for you.” He raised his voice only slightly so he would be sure he was heard. The near deafening silence left at his threat made speaking easy. His comrade only glared harder at the other man, Kakarot, he remembered, while the dumb-looking fool was staring at him and Bulma. The younger boy was clearly upset, a line of blood snaking from under his hair and across his brow, but he didn’t seem to notice. He obviously cared for the woman he was holding hostage. Good. It would make him more compliant.

He barked at Raditz once more and, finally, the man tore his eyes away from his supposed kin and up at his captain. Vegeta motioned with his head for the tall man to come over to where he was. It didn’t escape him when Kakarot's hands flinched, squeezing into tighter fists as he watched his enemy walk away. When Raditz was close enough, he mumbled a low command into his ear. “Destroy their Jumper.”

His captive gasped and opened her mouth to shout, but Vegeta moved his hand to cover her mouth roughly. Raditz nodded and, almost too fast to see, he was on the Royal behind him. Vegeta followed suit, watching as Raditz slung his rifle off his shoulder, charged up a strong blast, and fired right into the side of the opposing ship. The look of shock in the crews face quickly grew into panic as realization hit them. Their enemies were getting away. And Vegeta was taking their Captain with them.

~*~*~*~

Bulma:

She bit down hard on the gloved hand, her teeth feeling like they were meeting steel. The man let her go, though she could tell it was less from pain and more from knowing he had her where he wanted her. Something about the man felt off, though she couldn’t put a finger on it. It were as if she had an itch on her back that she couldn’t reach, and it was starting to make her feel confused and irritated.

“How could you destroy my beautiful engine room like that?!” She felt another surge of fearlessness rise in her as she stood stiff, hands on her hips, in front of her captor. “It took me years to earn the credits needed to build that Jumper!”

He glared down his sharp nose as her, not much taller than she, but enough to make her feel small under the intensity of his aura. “Shut up. Currently, I am no longer in need of your services. I will call for you when you are needed and that will be all. Nappa!” A gigantic, burly man with a shiny head and drooping mustache, came to stand in front of his captain and next to her. “Take her to the small room next to mine. I will be able to hear if she tries to go anywhere.”

Before she could protest, the man scooped her up under his hard arms and carried her across the deck. Bulma spit profanities at The Devil, at his crew, at the man holding her. A spring of tears began to spill from her eyes as the man came up to what looked like a closet door. When he opened it, she realized that’s exactly what it was. There was only an old broom, a dirty mop, a hand-held floor scrubber, and an empty bucket in the small space. The large man, Nappa, tossed her into the room without delicacy, and as she picked herself up, the door slammed shut. She didn’t hear a lock, but when she tried to open the door, she was met with a growl from the other side. The man must be standing guard outside the door. She thought bitterly.   
Then, she felt her feet start to give under her and, before she could grab onto one of the empty shelves, she was thrown onto her butt from the force of the ship going into a Jump. She sat there for a bit, the Jump going much further than she had anticipated, and curled her knees to her chest. Her tears were still falling, though she wasn’t sure if their source was anger, fear, or sadness. Maybe all three. She didn’t know why she had opened her big mouth and given the Devil a perfect reason to kidnap her. She was smarter than that.

Nearly three whole minutes passed before she felt the familiar tug of a cruiser coming out of hyperspace, her breath still feeling like a heavy rock in her chest. She waited, not knowing what was going to happen next. There was almost no light in the room save for a small,narrow strip of yellow Liquid Light above the shelf. There was no window in the closet and the door leading to the outside was currently being blocked by the biggest man she had ever seen in her life. She couldn’t stop her tears even as she fisted one hand into her hair and another around the broomstick. At least if someone tried anything, she had some kind of weapon in hand.

Nearly an hour later, Bulma was starting to doze off when a gruff voice outside startled her awake. She was on her feet instantly, broomstick held up in front of her chest as she tried to rub the puffiness from her eyes. The door swung open noisily, the sudden brightness of the light outside making her squint. The angled hair of her captor made the silhouette easy to identify, and even though she felt nearly blinded, she held the broomstick tighter, both hands readying to swing should he try anything.

The man stepped forward slightly, something about his posture seeming tired even as his voice came out amused. “You can’t be serious, woman.”

“Stay back,” she warned, her throat rough from crying. She cleared it and let her eyes adjust to the light. “Don’t try anything funny. I won’t go without a fight.”

“You’ve made that much clear, earthling. However, what you want is irrelevant. You’re coming with me this instant.”

“You can just say my name,” she snapped, her energy plummeting along with her adrenaline. “It’s Bulma.”

“Whatever,” he sneered, reaching out to grab her arm. His eye twitched as he quickly looked her up and down, a weird looking ghosting his expression before disappearing completely. “Come along, little Captain.”

Without thinking, she swung the broomstick down, aiming for the man’s arm. He turned his hand quickly and grasped it tightly, squeezing until the wood snapped under his hands. A low grumbling sound rattled from his chest, nearly forcing her into shivering, as his eyes darkened with warning. She didn’t want to show fear, not to this man, but she couldn’t help the shake in her hands as she dropped the pole.

There were a few seconds of silence before he reached for her again. This time, she let him, his grip not as tight as it had been when he kidnapped her, but enough so that she couldn’t run away from him. The bustling crew all seemed to stop as they passed, their alien eyes following her as she walked. A few of them had a hunger in their gaze that made her want to throttle them, but since she couldn’t go anywhere, she fixed her eyes straight ahead, expression hardened to indifference. 

They approached another entryway that Bulma assumed led down into the ship, when a small, red-skinned alien came up out of it. His poofy, white hair was tied back and his face twisted with distaste at the sight of them. He stood a little straighter and gave a salute that seemed laced with mockery rather than respect. “Vegeta, sir.”

Vegeta, she thought, that familiar itch returning to her mind. So that’s his name?

The man stopped abruptly, causing Bulma to bump into him lightly. She wanted to leap back, but instead mumbled an apology and stepped slightly back. He paid her no mind though as he turned his head toward the smaller alien. “Jeice, you will address me as Captain, understood? Try that casual disrespect shit again and I’ll kill you.”

“Captain Ginyu won’t like that,” the alien, Jeice, challenged, his slight bow and fist over his heart looking more and more insincere, “And you know I’ll have to report your failure today.”

“Failure?” Vegeta chuckled, a dark sounding thing that made Bulma’s skin tingle and the other alien halt his smiling. “I would say we were beyond successful with this little Captain on board. But I am at no disclosure to tell you why. What matters is we have the Four Star piece, and that is all you need to report. Are we clear? Or do I need to make it more so?”

Bulma noticed Jeice’s eyes go wide and looked at Vegeta to see that, somehow, the man had pulled some sort of pistol from his belt and aimed it right for the man’s heart. She hadn’t even seen him move. Jeice nodded slowly, sharply, and then strode off, the crew back to repairing the dents in their ship as the show ended.

Vegeta replaced his pistol and gave her arm a light tug. “Come on.”

They walked in silence for a while, the man leading her down into the ship. Liquid Light, the raw kind that hadn’t yet been touched by her genius brain, lit the narrow hallways. There were a few small doorways they passed, and then they passed a room that was open and had old fabric hammocks strung about the wood walls and brass beams. Finally, they stopped at a steel door with a keypad and retinal scanner mounted in the wall. As he typed in a code that she tried to see him enter, she said, “So, your name is Vegeta.”

He said nothing, angling his face forward so the scanner could get his right eye. Bulma tried again, though why she did, she wasn't sure. "That guy was an asshole." 

Vegeta gruffed a wordless reply, neither an agreement or disagreement, and stepped back slightly. The door slid open with a soft hiss and he pulled her inside behind him. Lights came on and revealed a metal room with training equipment that reminded her strongly of Goku’s room. Along one side of the room was a steel table with a medical kit, a small stack of towels, a folded change of clothes, and nothing else. Vegeta used his free arm to push the stacks onto one side of the table and released her arm, going instead for the inside of the long coat he had donned. He withdrew the book-sized box and set it on the table, turning to face her.

“Open it.” He demanded, gesturing to the box. “Now, little Captain.”

“You could say ‘please',” Bulma grouched softly, moving forward to ready her fingerprint for the lock. “And anyway, it's weird that you keep calling me Captain.”

“How so?” he grumbled, his eyes scanning the room as if someone were watching.

“Well, because I’m not one, for starters.” She pressed her finger against the cool, pliable scanner, and watched as a thin blue light traced her finger. 

Vegeta stiffened at that, his muscles tightening so quickly that the table jerked slightly as the box popped open. She gave a small cry of protest as the box slid slightly away from her, but Vegeta was staring at her, hard.

“W-what?” she stammered. “Why are you looking at –”

“What did you say?” His interruption was brisk, almost panicked, and she wasn’t quite catching on to what was going through his head.

“Th-that… I mean... I’m not… a Captain?” Bulma wasn’t sure why the temperature in the room seemed to be dropping, or why Vegeta's gloved hand was now gripping the metal table with such force, she swore it was beginning to dent and bend.

He was breathing hard through his nose, eyes boring into her, and just when she felt like she wanted to bolt, the man cursed loudly and let go of the table. He stormed over to a gigantic, dented punching bag, and landed one strong, swift punch that set the bag swinging wildly. 

Bulma didn’t move, feeling very confused and slightly terrified. Her hand inched for the box and she drew it closer to her, gently snapping the lid shut once more. Obviously, there was something going on she wasn’t aware of.

Vegeta violently tugged his coat off and tossed it against the wall, his temper seeming to rise. He glared at Bulma and pointed a finger at her, causing her to shrink back a bit. He looked like a madman. 

“If you aren't the Captain, then why were you manning the ship during a chase against men who work for Frieza?”

“My… he… umm –”

“Speak, woman!” He shouted, slamming a fist into the punching bag once more and making her jump. 

But, at his demand, she had that urge of defiance pulling her under again. She knew it was stupid, knew she had to be careful around such a strong, intimidating person, but no one talked to her that way. 

She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, planting one hand on a hip and pointing a finger right back at the man across from her. “Listen here, buddy, my hands are burned pretty badly! I trusted Goku to handle the engine room while he trusted me to pilot! I built that ship, after all, so no one knows it better than me! My Captain has class, and he would never treat someone, even an enemy, like you have treated me! He respects me and my abilities!”

The man seemed to nearly be vibrating with anger, a flush pink rising into his face as he ground his teeth and paces towards her. “Watch your mouth.”

“And another thing!” She was shouting now, tears beginning to prick her eyes as her emotions boiled up in her. She was reckless, but she couldn’t stop her tongue. “Stop calling me 'woman' as well! I demand you use my name. Bulma!”

He had her practically backed against the table, but she didn’t budge, a single, angry tear leaving the corner of her left eye and burning down her face. He was angry, but some of the madness had left him. “You have no right to demand anything in your position. And who is Goku?”

“The guy your tall, black ponytail goin was fighting with!” She leaned toward his face, matching his challenge.

A flicker of realization broke the stone of anger before flaring up in his expression once more. “Kakarot?!”

She was so confused. “Who?” 

“The one Raditz was fighting!”

“His name is Goku.”

“That’s a stupid name.”

“Who cares?"

"So, you're not the captain but that goofy-looking fool is?"

"Why are you so concerned about whether or not I’m a Captain?!”

“I had a mission.”

“For what?!”

Bulma was beginning to feel fidgety, her hands gasping the cold stainless steel behind her as his heated body pressed close to hers. He was trying to make her scared, as she had seen many men make this kind of move, but her insides were twisting funny.

It was back. The itch she couldn't scratch, the flicker of what felt like a memory buried under dark, starless nights as she tried to forget the death of her mother. An anger and vengeance that blazed to life as Vegeta hovered mere inches from her body, trying to be tactical, but igniting the strangest fire in her belly. His eyes were burning her alive, his sharp nose nearly flaring in his temper, his muscles tight as his clothes hugged their shape. He was terrifying. But he was also handsome, in a villainous way, and she hated him for it. 

He leaned even closer and before he could answer, and definitely before she could think, her hand swept across the air and made contact with Vegeta's face. She slapped him. Hard.

Stunned silence filled the air and she sucked in a shocked breath as his body began to shake once more. 

She was as good as dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I'm so sorry it took so long to update this guys! These last two months have done their best to kick my ass creatively, mentally, and emotionally. Actually, this entire year has, and that doesn't happen often.  
> However! Something switched in me these last couple weeks and my creative switch was thrown into overdrive! [*insert the Spongebob meme we all love*]  
> As such, I'm setting a goal to have a new chapter up for you guys every other week! As a heads up, they might come out a bit messier than I would like (being a writer means we always want to edit and edit and edit and...) Most likely the chapters will be unedited in places, but I want to be more consistent in updates for you guys!   
> This may or may not work, but if you would like updates, feel free to follow me on tumblr under: starrcrossrose!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading you guys, I really appreciate your support! 
> 
> \- Hannah


	6. A Gamble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goku feels like a failure. Vegeta is feeling strange. Bulma is putting a plan together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written To:
> 
> hold on // flor  
> breathin // Ariana Grande
> 
> All music rights go to the production companies and artists above.  
> These songs just helped but my brain in a good writing mood, so I hope you give them a listen! The first half of this chapter wasn't written to any music, but about halfway through Vegeta's section, I started listening to these two songs. :)

**Goku** :

It had been a long time since he had felt afraid the way he did right now. His ship was teetering sideways, his crew was a frantic mess, and the blow to their ship not only decimated their Jumper, but also one of the thrusters he and Bulma had managed to bring back to life.

 _Bulma_.

He fisted his hand and punched the wood along the edge of the ship, cracking it. His best friend, Krillin, was sweating profusely as he shouted commands to get the ship righted enough to descend back down to Capula and do repairs. At Goku’s unusual outburst, he eyed him with worry. “You ok man?”

Goku couldn’t respond, his tongue like cotton in his mouth. He was so angry. At himself for failing to be successful in getting the other map piece, at himself for letting his ship get so damaged, and at himself again for failing to rescue Bulma. He could still see his childhood friend’s face as a pistol was held to her head, her eyes on him with a silent plea. He hadn’t been able to move, knowing he wouldn’t be quite fast enough to save her. The man who held her hostage was powerful; he could sense it the moment his concentration had been broken from the bulky man he had been fighting.

Which brought another thought to the forefront of his mind. That man had said his name was Raddish, or something like that, and had seemed strangely mad and desperate at the same time. He had been calling Goku some other strange name, trying to ask if he recognized the man he was fighting. Goku hadn’t responded, had merely punched the man in the gut and demanded they leave his ship before he got serious. It had surprised the Raddish guy, but it had also pushed him into fight mode, and the two had sparred. It had caused a strange feeling to radiate through Goku, a tickle in his mind, but he had pushed it away. He was winning the fight too, when the Devil had appeared holding Bulma at gunpoint. Goku rubbed the knot on the back of his head, a slow pounding beginning to make its way to his brain. When they had been struck by the enemy cruiser, he had been flung sideways and hit the wall of the engine room hard. It had dazed him enough at the time to not see a large hunk of heavy metal falling right on top of him. Next thing he knew, he was waking up to explosions and the sound of battle. He had failed them all.

When he didn’t respond, Krillin touched Goku’s arm gently, pulling him from his thoughts. “We’ll get her back, Goku. You know our Bulma; she’s tough as nails and way smarter than any of us. She’ll know how to play her cards and escape.”

The tall Captain looked down to his friend, the right-hand-man of the Z-Fighter and gave him a weak smile. It was the best he could manage through the whirlwind of emotion he was handling. “I hope you’re right, Krill. She can have an attitude sometimes, so I hope she doesn’t let that get the best of her.” He paused, watching as his crew bustled about fixing the ship the best they could. Without Bulma, doing full-on quick repairs was near impossible. Goku sighed and tried to relax his hands. “We have to find her.”

Krillin nodded his agreement and set out towards their next destination in a hurry. They had to go to the Core of their cruiser to relay some solar energy so other parts of the engines and thrusters. If one side overloaded, there would be more explosions and damage than any of them could handle. As they descended into the Z-Fighter, Goku could hear his wife crying over their son. He did a quick look into the open room and saw Chi-Chi holding Gohan close, the boy looking more and more exhausted with her fussing. He could hear him telling her that he was fine, that he was stronger than he looked. Goku smiled to himself because he knew his son was right. Sure, he worried about him in high intensity moments like today, but he also knew Gohan would surpass him in time, both in fighting and in engineering. He could sense it.

He continued walking, Krillin leading the way down. They passed the main door to Bulma’s lab and he could hear his friend telling him how Bulma had taken their enemy through the back door of her work space instead of the front, keeping their personal stuff safe. He absentmindedly touched his fingers to the short-sword hanging from his belt. It had been a gift from Bulma, the first of her many experiments on star-powered weaponry. It had taken her weeks to make it, and she had hardly slept, but when she produced it to him proudly, he had been amazed with her work. She told him that she wanted to surpass everyone with her smarts, her skill, and at the rate she had been improving, Goku really believed she would. He still did. Now, he just hoped that her chance wasn’t stolen because of the man he had failed to save her from.

The Core was near boiling when the door slid open in the depths of the ship. The men set to work immediately, Goku heading to the communicators he had requested in every main room and called for another person. Gohan responded the fastest, saying he was the closest and not busy. A minute later, the boy was entering the room, already tying his long hair back and setting to work beside Krillin. Goku sensed that the boy had wanted any excuse to get away from his mom. Then, surprisingly, Launch entered the room, her cold eyes sweeping the room. “I thought maybe one more pair of hands would be useful.”

Goku gave her an apologetic grin because, like everyone else on board, he sometimes forgot she was a part of their crew. She was good at hiding away, at blending into the background and keeping to herself. If Tien wasn’t around (which, most of the time he wasn’t), then she was off doing her own thing or just hanging out until the action kicked in. It made her willingness to help them even more unusual. Goku boiled down her offer to her being just as antsy and upset about Bulma’s capture as the rest of them. The two girls had never been super close, but they had been spending a little more time together recently, so maybe that status was set to change.

Goku’s son and friend gave Launch an awkward wave, then he told Launch that she could help him with what he was working on. He didn’t really need help, but he knew his friends must be needing something to do or think about, and besides, his headache was starting to bother him. With a huff, she set to work, helping reroute wires and spickets for the gas and liquid forms of energy surging through the room. There was so much work to do, and every second Goku spent stuck above Capula, the more irritated he became about his unfinished fight, about his childhood friend becoming a trump card for the enemy, and about his map pieces they had collected being taken.

It was going to be a long day.

 

~*~*~*~

 

 **Vegeta** :

He was breathless. The woman was pathetically weak, but she had caught him off guard, his skin stinging from her slap. The woman’s eyes widened, her blue hair falling slightly across her eyes and forehead. Something about the way she was looking at him, surprised and with an underlying glimmer of hatred, made him feel strange. Had he been here before? He was nearly a hundred percent sure he hadn’t been.

She tried to inch back, to get away from him, and he found himself too stunned to do anything but let her get away from his personal bubble of space and take several steps back until she was pressed against the wall. Her hand clutched at her shirt over her heart, her other feeling around her toolbelt for what he assumed was a weapon. She didn’t have any. He almost felt like laughing, which was strange in and of itself.

Vegeta straightened himself, the shock of her hit almost seeming to set his mind back on track. He decided he wasn’t going to say anything to her. He would leave her wondering if she was going to live or die by his hand; he would leave her guessing. It would make her less likely to act out, and besides, he needed her to start locating map pieces for him. If she could tamper with Liquid Light and not be either dead or insane, then he knew she had to be smart. She said she had built most of the Z-Fighter as well, and he also found that massively impressive, though he wouldn’t admit so aloud.

Making his way back over to the punching bag, Vegeta picked up his rumpled coat and draped it over his arm. Finally, he looked up at the frightened, uncertain woman, and let out a harsh breath through his nose. “I’m taking you to our main lab. It is small, but it should work for you. Follow me and say _nothing_. Nod if you understand.”

She did, sharply, her lips drawn shut. He led the way, knowing she would follow. The human had made a grave mistake, and she knew it; she would have to obey him if she wanted to stay alive. Still, Vegeta began to question himself as they went through another small door in the room, leading into one about half the size of the one Vegeta trained in all the time. Why did he let her live? Sure, she had the use of making something that could track down the map pieces, but Vegeta was no stranger to technology. He had been building machines and tools since he was young. He could’ve just threatened her for the blueprints to her device and killed her right then and there. Hell, he could’ve killed everyone on that damned cruiser. But he hadn’t. Maybe he was more tired than he thought.

Vegeta motioned for the chair by the small metal table, the female sitting in it cautiously. She watched him, eyes like a deep blue sea, as he went back into the previous room and grabbed the medical kit from the table. When he returned, he stood on the opposite end of the table from her, placing the box before her before speaking. “There is burn salve in there. Use it to fix your hands; you are of no use to me if you can’t use them. You will find all the tools you need afterwards in that cabinet.” He pointed at the wall to his left, and then to the drawers on the floor to the woman’s right. “Other necessities should be in there. Get to work, _woman_.”

He spat the last word as if to make a point about their earlier argument, then strode out the door and closed it behind him, her gasp of surprise and the clatter of her chair hitting the floor reaching his ears. The lock slid into place and he heard her bang on the metal a few times before silence fell once again. He checked the time device he had installed into the training room wall, ticking softly. He would train for a couple of hours and work out his frustrations. He needed to come up with a new plan.

 

~*~*~*~

 

_The room had one light, a candle of all things, and it was close to burning out. He didn’t mind though; Vegeta only needed the light to better see the tiny parts he was working with. He had great night vision, but his recent device building required a precision that needed more light. He was currently trying to build a device that could count time. He was mostly doing it so he could know how long he was being locked up for. Sometimes a handful of hours felt like days, and Vegeta was sick of not knowing._

_His tail swished side to side behind him as he worked thoughtlessly. It had been two years since he lost everything, since the days of torture had started. The bitter thought made his tail stiffen and curl gently around his waist, his bruised cheek and lacerations across his back still throbbing. He had stopped crying over a year ago. All it did was make his tormentors laugh harder. Now, he focused more on trying not to scream, on making his torture experience more in his hands than in theirs. He deserved that much. Raditz was the only other one who had to endure hours of torture, but only when he acted out of line. He was nearly fifteen now and had started to learn when to hold his tongue, even if he wasn’t super great at it. Vegeta would never bow the way his comrades were starting to, though. He swore it to himself every day. As a result, he was still punished more often than not._

_The rattle of someone unlocking the tiny room made his head shoot up, limp bangs falling into his eyes. He shoved the small metal plate and all its parts under his floor blanket and tightened his tail. He never knew who to expect, which made him far more tense. Usually, if he was paying attention, he could get a good guess on who it might be by their footfalls, but he had been zoned out._

_The door opened and Vegeta felt as if the floor was going to fall out from under him. A very tall, very green alien leaned on the door frame, a white shoulder cape flowing gently off his figure as his long green braid hung down the front of his chest. He wore a white, silk shirt that was cut in a deep “v" down the front and high-waisted black pants that hugged his long legs. He was smiling. Vegeta felt sick to his stomach at the sight of him._

_“Long time no see, little Prince.” He cooed, his knee-length black boots creaking gently as he began to move forward. “How long has it been? I’m sorry, I’ve just been so busy.”_

_Vegeta felt frozen, his breath stuck somewhere in a void that had opened in his lungs. It was Zarbon. He was Frieza's favorite, his strategist and confidant. Vegeta hadn’t seen him in over a year, and had hoped he would never have to see him again._

_When the prince didn’t answer, Zarbon chuckled, coming to a stop only three strides into the room. It was too small a space for him to go any further without stepping on Vegeta, so he crouched down instead. The man's green eyes nearly glowed, a ring of purple gleaming around his irises as he kept his cool smile trained on the thirteen-year-old Saiyan._

_“Don’t worry, little Prince,” he reached out, his smooth green fingers just grazing Vegeta's face. It took all the young prince’s will power not to flinch away; it would only make the next moments worse. “We're going to have a little time to catch up.”_

 

~*~*~*~

 

He woke with a violent start, his hands already glowing with uncontrolled ki, the white-gold energy licking his skin into blisters. He extinguished the energy slowly, using its fading glow to count back from ten as he sucked air in and out, slowly.

The memory had shaken him more than he wished it had. In fact, he wasn’t sure what made him think of it at all. It had been over six years since he had last seen the horrid man, and nearly eight since he had last been alone with Vegeta. It had only cost the young Saiyan his tail and Zarbon an eye. It was well worth the price.

Slowly, his eyes travelled to the device on the wall and he sighed heavily. It had been over three hours. What was he doing on the floor of his training room? He thought back, reaching into his consciousness while trying to avoid the dark memory of his childhood. The last thing he remembered was a bright flash, pain, and then waking up where he was now. It didn’t feel right.

The door to the training room opened and in walked the blue-haired female, hands full with what looked like food. She noticed him sitting on the floor flaring at her and she gave him a nervous grin. What was she up to? “Glad to see you’re awake now. I wasn’t sure how much of that blast you could take.”

The feeling started to come back. That curl in his gut, the blink of light in the past he wanted so strongly to forget. But, above all that, was the feeling of suspicion that bubbled to the surface. She had done something to him, somehow. He could feel it. “What did you do?”

Her mouth twisted into a grimace. “I didn’t do anything to you. Your training equipment malfunctioned.” She set the food down on the stainless-steel table, her eyes lingering on the dents his fingers had made not too long ago.

“How do I know if that’s true?” He snapped, getting to his feet. “You could’ve sabotaged me.”

She hesitated, as if gathering her thoughts, and Vegeta found himself curious about what she was going to say next, how she would fire up and argue with him.

When she spoke, it wasn’t what he was expecting. “Why haven't you killed me? Or… done worse than that?” He was caught off-guard by the questions, more because he had been asking himself the same thing for the last couple hours. Even worse, he didn’t truly have an answer. Not that it mattered because she was already talking again. “I mean… I’ve heard a lot about you, and about your men. You steal, you take people – mostly women - for your personal pleasure, and you kill hundreds on the spot if they so much as _breathe_ the wrong way! I mean… you’re the supposed Devil of the Stars, and I knew I was being reckless around you. So, why haven’t you killed me or handed me to your men?”

Vegeta was on his feet now, watching the woman from across the room. He felt uncomfortable, he felt doubt, he felt annoyed. He wasn’t used to being asked such personal questions by anyone, especially a stranger. Embarrassed, he started to make his way out of the room. She didn’t need an answer from him; he owed her nothing.

“Hey, where are you going?!” She shouted after him.

“To my room. If you don’t want to be left alone, then follow me. If you do, then you’re on your own down here. Also,” he turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. “I don’t know what you did to me, but you will not catch me off guard again. Next time you try something on me without my consent, I _will_ kill you.”

He turned away and kept walking, her silence at his threat being all he needed to know she wouldn’t try anything again. Not very soon after, he heard her small footsteps jogging after him, and he tucked his arms across his chest, as if shielding himself from the world as he shoved the strange mixture of emotions down into a dark box and shutting the lid firmly. He didn’t like how much he had slipped up today. He would rest and then wake for dinner and more training, giving his mind a chance to clear.

As they appeared on the deck again, Vegeta could hear the soft snickering amongst the crew, their eyes following them as they whispered to one another. He glanced at the woman behind him quickly, curious on how she was handling such attention. She wasn’t even looking at him, instead baring her teeth at anyone who came too close and turning up her nose to walk with pride. He felt something inside him trying to bend his iron will, a flash flood of respect against his unyielding dam of indifference, so he faced forward and washed the feeling from his mind. Nappa spotted Vegeta from his spot at the Royal’s wheel and came down to stand by the small door next to Vegeta’s bedchamber.

Wordlessly, Nappa opened the closet door while Vegeta stepped to the side so the woman could enter. She halted, eyes watching the two men, and he found himself giving her a once over. Her clothes were dirty and her hands freshly bandaged. She was still carrying the lunch she had brought down to the training room, and her neck was purpling with the bruise he knew would end up there from his hands. A low, sick feeling burst in his stomach at the sight, and he found himself having to turn away.

“Nappa, you can take one of those lunches, I am not hungry. Make sure the woman goes into her room and that someone is always guarding the door. She only comes out when I say so. I’m going to my room.”

“Aye, Captain. What about the map piece?” Nappa asked, his voice gruff and gentle. Vegeta hated how soft the man was becoming towards him.

“It is secure. Come see me after the woman is locked up.”

Without another word, the young prince went into his room and shut the door.

 

~*~*~*~

 

 **Bulma** :

_She was running through a lush garden, the glass dome overhead giving a beautiful view to the stars above. A slice of silver light added a soft glow to the foliage, and her soft dress skirt flowed about her knees. Her blue hair was tied up into an elegant bun, gold bangles clinking gently around her ankles, her feet bare as she ran through the enormous greenhouse._

_Bulma was looking for a place to hide from her sister and their guests. They had been playing a game of hide-and-seek for a while now, the adults all talking about boring stuff in another room. As the sun had set, the game had become more and more challenging for the children. Well, except for a select few who had excellent vision in the dark, but that just meant the rest of them had to get more creative in their hiding spots._

_As she was rounding a tree, her sights set on a small space behind a large floral hedge, she ran right into someone. A sharp yelp escaped her, but she tried to keep her voice down as the echoed counting of her sister drifted throughout the room. The other child grunted, steadying them both with a hand on her arm, and Bulma tried to look and see who it was she had run into._

_“Watch where you’re going, idiot.” A small, mean voice hissed at her._

_“I’m sorry,” Bulma righted herself and went to start moving around the boy, her focus still on hiding before her sister came looking for her and the other kids._

_“Why are we still playing this game?” The other kid sighed, the dark of night making him nearly impossible to see in the shadow of the trees and tall plants around them. A boy. He sounded familiar. “This is stupid. We should be learning about whatever our parents are discussing.”_

_She started to remember him, but only slightly. She remembered thinking he was a stuck-up kid, a boy with a terrible personality and someone who had been trying to ruin their fun since they had decided to play this game._

_“Don’t play then,” she whispered, her eyebrows drawing together. She took a step back from him as she heard her sister shout that she was coming to find them. Becoming nearly frantic, she ran around the boy and was headed for her designated spot when a hand around her wrist stopped her. “Hey, let me go, I have to hide!”_

_“If you want to win, you need to hide better. That spot is too easy to see for those of us with good eyes.” The small boy had her arm gently in his hand, tugging her in a different direction._

_“Are you saying we have bad eyes?” She frowned, letting the boy direct her towards a thick set of lunar flowers. The stalks grew thick, tall, and so close together that she wasn’t sure how they were going to fit through there._

_He said nothing in response to her question and instead pulled her right into the lunar flowers, their petals already starting to unfold. When in full bloom, they would glow with a gentle, purple light, basking nearly the entire garden in its glow. Tonight, however, the moon was barely there, so they only managed to open their petals the smallest bit._

_The stalks were rough, the leaves almost sharp as they tried to move through as quickly and silently as possible. Well, at least, she was trying. The boy in front of her seemed to not have to try at all. He moved without making a sound. No wonder she hadn’t heard him before running straight into him just moments before._

_“I thought you said this game was stupid.” she mumbled softly, the boy bringing them to a stop near a small gap in the flowers and squatting down. He let go of her arm as she dropped into a low crouch beside him, her vision definitely worse in the thick foliage of the flowers. She couldn’t see a thing._

_“It is,” he huffed, shuffling slightly as he adjusted to his position on the ground. “But, I haven’t been caught yet, and I don’t plan to be. I’m going to win. So, shut up, or we’ll both be caught.”_

_Bulma said nothing else for a while, her mind running through reasons as to why he brought her with him instead of just leaving her behind. The boy was at least a year older than her, but he spoke as if he was already an adult. How had he learned to be so well spoken? Sure, Bulma was above average in her own way, her father already allowing her to build parts for the machines he and Tights were always working on. But, her parents had never forced them to be adult-like in their speech or mannerisms. This boy was acting like he was leagues above the rest._

_Maybe he was._

_Maybe this game really was silly._

 

~*~*~*~

 

When she woke up, the first thing she realized was how sore her back was. The second thing she realized was that the strip of Liquid Light in her “room” was no longer on. It was beyond dark. Something cold grasped her heart, an old fear that she thought she would never feel again. Yet, here it was, trying to pull her under, to drown her.

She tried to pull herself upright, her muscles aching and tightening painfully, only for her hands to give way under her. The blisters on her palms had started to burst, it seemed, as the sting of it made her eyes water. Blindly, she reached about the room for her tool belt, pulling it over to her once she had found it. Her heart was starting to beat wildly now, her lungs beginning their cruel, stampeding dance as she dug into one of the pouches of her belt. Even without a light, Bulma knew which little capsules did what. Afterall, she _was_ a genius.

Bulma considered herself for a moment, knowing that if she was caught with these they would be taken from her. The plan she had started building for her escape would crumble before it had even fully begun. But, with the way her heart was rabbiting and the near gasps she was making for air, she knew she had to use one of them, at least for a few minutes.

Pushing the little button on top of the ceramic device, she set it on the floor near her and waited. A couple seconds later, there was a soft poof and then silence. Bulma reached forward until her hands wrapped around the wax candle and small box of lighters. Sliding the box open proved to be difficult. Her hands were already shaking like mad, and tears were beginning to prick the corners of her eyes.

 _Not here, Bulma. Don’t show that weakness to the enemy. Be strong. Be_ strong _._

Finally, she opened the box and struck a match, the small flame already granting far better light than the strip above the shelves had. She lit the small candle and put the match out as quickly as she could, hoping that the acrid strike of smoke didn’t reach the nose of whoever was outside the door. And if it did, she hoped they wouldn’t care.

She let the candle burn for a while, taking the time to steady her breathing and work through the cold sweat that had begun to bead along her hands, neck, and forehead. It had been a long time since she had an episode like that, but she had woken in a tiny, dark room, her head filled with a dream that activated something foreign in her.

Had it been a dream? Or was it a memory? The garden was real, the lunar flowers were real, but everything else had felt fabricated. The dress she was wearing, the bracelets around her ankles, and the many children running about the place as they played game after game. She didn’t remember any of it. To have something surface in her mind that felt so clear, so real, and not be able to remember a single thing aside from location, had made her feel lost.

After what felt like long enough, Bulma put the candle out and quickly popped it back into its capsule form, hoping the small device would take the smoke with it. She still felt unsettled, but she wasn’t on the verge of an attack, which she took as a good sign. Instead, she propped herself up against the far wall and reached back into her tool belt, opening a separate pouch. Inside one of them was a little charm in the shape of a small red star, made of a very rare type of rock. It was almost translucent, like a crystal, but far stronger, like a diamond. The surface had the texture of fine sand, but no matter how hard she squeezed it in her palms, it never cracked and never scratched. She couldn’t remember how she had received it, only that she always had it with her. Even though her head told her it was silly, her heart liked to believe that the little charm had brought her luck and kept her and her friends alive through many things.

It wouldn’t fail her now. She just knew it.

With her hands closed tightly around the small, red star, Bulma fell back asleep.

 

~*~*~*~

 

 **Vegeta** :

It was very late when the ping of his comms system woke him from a light sleep. The small colored indicator on his desk was flashing purple.

_Oh shit._

Vegeta got out of bed and, not bothering to put on a shirt, answered the video call. A small, holographic screen appeared in front if him. The quality was fuzzy from distance, but it didn't make the man in front of him any less grotesque or intimidating.

“Ah, finally, the monkey prince answers.” The alien man learned forward, his usually snowy skin tinted pink from the room he was in, his purple robes draped around him and his stupid floating chair like a king.

Lord “Captain" Frieza.

“Apologies, sir, on the wait. How may I assist you?” Vegeta kept his tone even, his expression blank, but inside he was reeling. Frieza almost never called him while on mission, and especially on one that he knew would take a while. Why was he calling?

“Well, my dear little prince, I’ve heard that you’re taking quite a long time to gather the map pieces I’ve asked you for.” The man reached out of frame and pulled back a wine glass filled with a dark liquid. The lighting of the room made it look like blood. “You aren't _plotting_ , are you?”

Vegeta seethed, his jaw tightening as he tried to keep his composure. _Jeice. He had to have made a report to Ginyu to make me look bad. I’ll kill him._

He collected himself quickly, and answered. “Not at all, my Lord. The pieces ar we just proving difficult to achieve in some places, and far too easy in others. We are now in possession of four, since I found three grouped together on another ship.”

“Oh?” The man seemed almost genuine in his surprise. But, Vegeta had learned long ago that any emotion that evil man felt was usually laced with something dark.

“Aye. I have also captured that ship's Captain, who seems to have a knack for finding the pieces. This should speed up the process, my Lord.”

Vegeta could feel the lie scratching his throat, his eye twitching just slightly. He had never been a good liar when it came to Frieza; the man had a gaze that could pull answers from a dead man. On top of that, his half-truth was more of s gamble on time and cooperation from the woman than anything else. He had already had a dose of her headstrong spirit. He didn’t know just how much she was capable of, either.

The man before him crossed his legs and leaned into the arm of his chair, watching his wine glass as he swirled the liquid about. He looked casual, bored even, but Vegeta waited silently. He knew Frieza was thinking, which could be good and bad. After a moment, the man let out a low breath and looked back up at Vegeta. “Do not disappoint me, Vegeta. I am running out of patience.”

Almost before Vegeta could bow stiffly, the comms unit clicked off, the disappearance of the soft white screen dropping his room back into darkness. He sat there for a moment, processing his thoughts and trying to plan his much time he would have before Frieza came to get the pieces himself. That was definitely not an option that he wanted to consider. No, he would have to make the woman work for him. He would place his gamble on her capability to find the pieces fast and, when he was done with her, he would toss her aside.

He had no use for weaklings. Especially not her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, even though I wrote almost 16 pages of text, I feel like this chapter is super short! Ugh... hahaha. Well, it is what it is! I hope you guys like this chapter! I wrote this one much faster than previous ones, AND we're starting to get into more important stuff from here on out! Have a great day, and sail on, Star Kids! 
> 
>  
> 
> ~ Hannah

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to add a quick note here saying that this fic was inspired by vegetapsycho's cover for the "Under Every Moon" VegeBul Zine! The moment I saw it, I went digging for a fic and couldn't find one! So, here we are.  
> I hope y'all enjoy!!


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